


Ain't No Sunshine

by Sunflowers_and_Tulips



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, No Beta, Slow Burn, additional characters and relationships to be added, because i have no friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunflowers_and_Tulips/pseuds/Sunflowers_and_Tulips
Summary: “Would you defy the stars for me, Mark Lee?”Going into his sixth year at Hogwarts, Mark holds a heavy and dangerous grudge against Slytherins for an incident that almost left one of his best friends dead. Determined to avenge his friend, and give those that hurt him a much needed lesson, Mark embarks on a year of magic, duels, rivalry, and danger.Unfortunately, his ill-defined relationship built on a complicated history with the notorious Lee Haechan has Mark toeing the line of morals and desire.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 21
Kudos: 79





	Ain't No Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue.
> 
> Dialogue written in italics to indicate flashbacks. Present-day dialogue will be in normal font.

_First Year_

Mark Lee, son on the powerful witch, Hye-Jin, and his intelligent, muggle father, Sanghyun, hadn’t slept a wink of sleep on the night leading into a day full of shopping at Diagon Alley. 

_“You’ll learn how to turn a book into a pot, meet famous ghosts that roam the halls, and perhaps even brew a love potion for a special someone.”_

_“Mom!”_

_A gentle giggle. “I’m kidding. But you’ll finally be able to play on a quidditch team! Well, you will in your second year. But make sure to show off your skills in your flying lessons! I taught you everything I know!”_

And that she had. Mark’s mother was both the kindest soul anyone had the pleasure to meet and also a force to be reckoned with. Growing up, she taught him how to ride a broom, which spells were best for dueling, and which spots at Hogwarts made good hideouts.

_“I’m not going to tell you too much,”_ she had whispered with a sly wink, a long, dainty finger pressed to her lips in jovial secrecy. _“Your time at Hogwarts is special. You should discover the castle all on your own.”_

Mark shuffled in his sheets, willing sleep to come to him as he imagined the full day of shopping ahead.

He was _finally_ going to Hogwarts.

.

.

.

Buildings tilting to the side, witches shoving gilded cages filled with rats in his face, and merry witches and wizards running down the streets with new robes and brooms clutched in their hands. Diagon Alley was abuzz with joy and wonder as a new generation of students prepared for their time at Hogwarts.

Lee Jeno, a long-time childhood friend with a bond that ran as deep as ones between brothers, made his way in and out of shops along with Mark. They got their wands together (Mark’s a 103/4 inch, cedar wood with unicorn core, Jeno’s an 11-inch, pear with unicorn core), their robes, and all their necessary textbooks. Both boys were understandably put-out at not being able to own a broom as first-years, but their frustrations were somewhat soothed when they both exited Eeylops Owl Emporium, Mark’s snowy owl and Jeno’s tawny one cozy in their cages.

With arms full of new belongings, tired parents flanking from behind, and wide smiles filled with a promise to sit next to one another on the Hogwarts Express come September first, Mark and Jeno separated, eager for their first day of school to come.

Much to the delight of the two young wizards, September first was only four days away. The two wanted nothing more than to send each other letters with their new owls leading up to the grand trip, but their mothers shot that down.

_“You just got, Hayan,”_ Mark’s mother had admonished, referring to the young boy’s newly named owl. _“And the family owl is out delivering letters to your relatives thanking them for the congratulatory gifts they sent you. You’ll see Jeno in a few days, you two can talk then.”_

Unfortunately, the combination between missing his friend and longing to board the train to Hogwarts made time pass much slower than it normally did. Finally, on a warm, sunny day, September first arrived and with it, Mark’s boundless joy as he awaited his parents in the kitchen, trunks and suitcases packed and ready to go.

_“I don’t know anything about this magic school,”_ his father had muttered. _“But could you maybe at least pretend you’ll miss us?”_

Mark grinned and leapt into his father’s arms for a tight, loving hug. His father may not be a wizard, but he was the one that taught Mark all about courage, kindness, and selflessness. Traits his mother said were important and bound to land him a spot in the Gryffindor house.

_Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart._

_“I was in Ravenclaw,”_ his mother had said as she told him all about the four houses and their founders. _“But you’ve got so much of your father in you, and I’d bet my wand that he’d be a Gryffindor.”_

From the day Mark learned of the various houses, he knew he wanted to be in Gryffindor. He supposed Ravenclaw wouldn’t be bad, and it would no doubt make his mother happy, even if it meant her prediction was wrong. Hufflepuff seemed find, and Mark wouldn’t be surprised to find himself sorted into the house of loyalty. Really, any of the three were fine, even if his heart called to Gryffindor. So long as he wasn’t sorted into Slytherin, Mark was happy. According to his mother, only the sly and scheming kids were put in Slytherin. And according to Jeno, not a single good witch or wizard could be traced back to the infamous house of Salazar Slytherin.

One, large, celebratory breakfast and a long-haul car ride to the train station later, Mark and his parents were running through a brick wall and onto platform nine-and-three-quarters. Jeno ambushed Mark from behind, engulfing the boy in a tight bearhug that sent Mark careening forward, hand rushing up to still his round glasses that threatened to slide off his nose.

Together, the two young wizards took in the sight of the Hogwarts Express. It looked exactly as it did in the photographs his mother had sent him, but the sight of the train in person about knocked the air from Mark’s lungs. Its gleaming, nearly reflective, fire-engine red body, black accents, and gold piping were hypnotizing, and Mark had to be pulled back by the neckline of his shirt several times to avoid boarding the train without a proper goodbye to his parents.

With a final round of hugs and a suffocating number of kisses later, Mark and Jeno pried themselves from their parents and boarded the train.

It would appear their parents were clingier than most, as many students had already filled up a lot of the compartments.

_“Here, here,”_ Jeno had nudged the two of them into a cabin near the back of one of the train cars, occupied only by another shy, quiet boy with dark hair just like them. He had smiled gently at the two of them, squeezing himself further into the corner of the bench he occupied, as if he were taking up too much room on his own. Awkwardly, he waved at the empty space, soundlessly offering a seat while clutching a Hufflepuff scarf in his hands

Jungwoo Kim, was his name, and he had fast become one of Mark’s first friends other than Jeno at Hogwarts. He was an infinitely kind boy, having quickly dumped a pile of sweets to share with the two on the plush bench of the train as he explained how nervous he was starting at Hogwarts. Despite being a pureblood wizard like Jeno, he didn’t know too many other witches and wizards his age. Luckily for him, Jeno and Mark were just as eager to make new friends and launched into conversation with the boy, flopping down onto the benches, Mark beside Jungwoo and Jeno across from them. The three quickly fell into an easy round of storytelling, swapping tales of their first time on a broom and where their parents had been when they attended Hogwarts.

_“I come from a long line of Hufflepuffs,”_ Jungwoo had explained. _“I brought my mom’s scarf with me for good luck. She told me it’ll help me end up there. Which house do you want?”_

The flash of disappointment that crossed Jungwoo’s face when both boys said Gryffindor was rather guilt-inducing.

_“But I’d love to be in Hufflepuff too,”_ Jeno quickly soothed. _“But much like you, I come from a family of Gryffindors, so the odds are pretty much set in that direction.”_

Mark bumped Jungwoo’s shoulder in a comforting manner.

_“Hey, even if we all somehow end up in three different houses, we can still be friends!”_ the young wizard had assured. Jungwoo rebounded at that, eyes twinkling, lips parting to mouth the word ‘friends’ to himself.

Then, like a crack of lightening through the sky, the door to their cabin had slid open with a bang. Standing in the doorway was a small boy, no house-defining colors adorning his robes, indicating his first-year status. His hair was dark and smooth against his round, tan head. His lips were pursed as he swept his gaze over the three boys. Mark was just about to open his mouth and offer the kid a seat, when the intruder cut in, voice slicing through the air with a tone that seemed rather authoritative.

_“None of you are Renjun,”_ the kid huffed, sounding rather exasperated. His gaze swept over the three one last time before landing on the bright yellow scarf Jungwoo clutched in his hands. _“Hufflepuff, eh? Be smarter of you to go with Slytherin, if you want to be even half as strong as someone like me one day.”_

Jungwoo flushed from the tips of his ears down his neck, so red the house of Gryffindor would be envious. Before any of the three boys could think of a response, the door slid shut, and the mouthy boy was gone in a flash of robes, just as quick as he had come. It was quiet for a moment as Jungwoo tugged sheepishly on his scarf. Jeno looked rather dazed, most likely trying to work out what had happened in that moment. Mark, torn between getting up and finding the kid to tell him off and comforting Jungwoo, settled on saying, _“If he’s the official representative for Slytherins, I’m not sure anyone is going to want to end up there.”_

Jungwoo giggled, Jeno nodded, and just like that, their easy conversation flowed forth once more.

.

.

.

_“First years follow me! Let’s go, let’s go! You want to be sorted, don’t you? Then come on, come on, get in the damn boats!”_

_“Donghae! They’re children!”_

Mark, Jeno, and Jungwoo giggled as Donghae, the keeper of keys, waved the first years over to the boats, an exasperated house elf telling him off from next to the tall wizard. The other incoming witches and wizards also struggled to contain their laughter as Donghae cracked jokes as they sailed their way to the castle. Jeno and Jungwoo giggled at every word that spill from Donghae’s mouth. Mark, however, was distracted by everything that filled his surroundings. From the moon’s reflection on the water, to the lanterns that hung from the boats. From the endless, green landscape that surrounded Hogwarts to the large, intimidating and hauntingly beautiful structure that was the castle.

Finally coming to a stop at the edge of the lake, the first years clambered out of their boats, pushing and giggling as they huddled into a mass of house-less students.

_Not for much longer, though,_ Mark thought to himself.

Donghae hummed merrily to himself, marching up to where a pretty, young woman stood, decked out in stunning, magenta robes, her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, smile wide and eyes just as bright.

_“Thank you Donghae,”_ she sang, before gesturing for the kids to follow her into the castle, coming to a stop in front of two, large doors. _“Everyone, I am Tiffany Young. Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is an especially important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. Okay, let’s go everyone!”_

Tiffany Young spun around, manicured hands reaching up, wand in hand, to open the grand doors to the great hall with a flourish.

It had almost been overwhelming, the sight of the long, wooden tables lined with students, looked over by the stretch of professors seated at the table at the front of the room. Ms. Young led the students, single file down the aisle between two of the four house tables. With yellow ties on his right, and blue to his left, Mark and the other students were given whispered phrases of ‘good luck’ and ‘hope to see you,’ as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws quietly cheered them on. The two tables on the far left and right, lined with green and red respectively, wolf-whistled and jeered from further away.

In many ways, the rest of that evening was a blur. Mark vaguely recalls names being called out in alphabetical order, buzzing with anticipation and delight as he saw Jeno get placed in Gryffindor, sending him a grin and a thumbs up as the boy trotted past. Jungwoo had been placed in Hufflepuff, just as he predicted, so at least Mark would know someone if he got sorted into that house. Still, his heart burned so fiercely for Gryffindor, he felt as though he would throw up if he heard any other name besides that of the house of Godric. At long last, following what felt like an endless list of names, Mark was placed on the stool himself. Ms. Young placed the hat on his head, the weight feeling all-consuming, even if it couldn’t have been more than three, four pounds.

_“Hmm, yes, hmm, indeed. Ahhh, I know this one. A rather wise mother you have, don’t you? You’d carry on her legacy well in Ravenclaw. But your heart is close to a Hufflepuff’s. Still, there’s something deeper there, something within you that I feel will come in handy later in the future. Yes, then I supposed it’d best be…. GRYFFINDOR!”_

The cheers were only a hum in comparison to the ringing in Mark’s ears as he leapt off the stool and bounded to join his new family. He flung himself into the open spot between Jeno and a recently sorted boy, Choi Yeonjun. Mark couldn’t help but beam and introduce himself to everyone in his vicinity once the sorting was officially done. Lee Soo-man, headmaster of Hogwarts, stood at last to give his speech to the new students. When all was said and done, with a wave of his hands, mountains of food appeared on the table for the students to enjoy.

It was only for a brief moment, that Mark’s eyes flicked up the same time another boy did, three tables over, where the tanned, sharp-tongued, freshly sorted Slytherin was seated like a king. He had recognized him from earlier, on the train, and didn’t feel the slightest bit surprised when the hat shouted for him to join the Slytherins. Their eyes had locked for only a moment before Mark forced his gaze away, breaking the connection with Lee Donghyuck.

.

.

.

It could be said that Mark’s first year at Hogwarts was his most peaceful one. He had made many friends, including a few upperclassmen like Jeong Jaehyun, a boy one year above him who was quick to give Mark and Lucas some tips on surviving their first year. As promised, Mark and Jeno also kept in touch with Jungwoo, and even introduced the boy to their fellow Gryffindor boys, Hendery, Yeonjun, and Lucas, a tall goofy boy that seemed to hit it off with Jungwoo right away.

_“I’m Wong Yukhei,”_ Lucas had said, flapping his red and gold tie needlessly. _“But you can call me Lucas!”_

All the boys got along well, and particularly enjoyed herbology and flying lessons, the two classes Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had together.

Most of Mark’s classes were alongside the Ravenclaw students, who were also easy enough to get along with. Plus, they were far more eager to answer questions, which was fine with Mark, Lucas, and Jeno, who preferred to goof off in the back of the class together.

The only frustrating class to be in was potions which, much to the dismay of everyone involved, was shared with the Slytherin house. Mark already disliked potions, as it seemed to be his weakest subject. His potion would be purple when it should have been yellow and would stink of rotten eggs when it should have smelled like tulips. Lucas and Jeno never failed to point out his failures, but miraculously the Slytherins ignored him. It appeared the Slytherins seemed just as content to ignore the existence of the Gryffindors and the lessons went fairly peaceful, all things considered. But, ever weary and suspicious, Mark kept his eyes on Donghyuck, the boy from the train, for a while. Perhaps it was the glint in his eyes or the way he twirled his wand like he was too cool to be taught how to use it. Whatever it was, he left Mark with a twist in his gut that was hard to ignore.

Before one could say ‘hippogriff,’ Mark’s first year at Hogwarts was half over. Mark spent Christmas at home, where he told his parents everything he had learned and experienced thus far at Hogwarts. From being the only Gryffindor to successfully execute wingardium leviosa to Yuta, a fourth year Gryffindor _and_ captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, begging Mark to tryout for the team come second year.

When winter break ended and Mark began his second half of his first year, he felt more at peace than ever and was even able to ignore Donghyuck in potions.

After all, the boy seemed just as disinterested in him.

_Second Year_

Adults would blame puberty. Mark blamed his class schedule.

As magical and memorable as his first year at Hogwarts had been, second year ranked a little lower.

The train ride that year had been a little better. No rude intruders came barging into Mark’s and his friends’ cabin to insult them. And, even better, their cabin was a little fuller that year, and even some acquaintances darted past with words of welcome and sentiments of ‘hope you had a good summer.’ It was also nice to experience things as an upperclassman (even if Mark was only in his second year) and to take the carriages to the castle and greet the newly declared Gryffindors.

In fact, the first few hours of his second year at Hogwarts was great.

Then, everyone got their schedules.

_“It’s got to be a mistake, right?”_ Yeonjun wondered at the first breakfast of the year. He had practically ruined his schedule by flinging it around, unintentionally sweeping in through Lucas’ kimchi jjigae before setting it down on a spot of spilled orange juice. _“Charms, transfiguration, history of magic, and mandatory dueling lessons on Wednesday nights are all shared between Gryffindors and Slytherins.”_

Even Jeno hadn’t taken the news well, which was saying something given the boy’s notorious ability to stay calm, cool, and overall unbothered by the ongoing, unspoken drama between the two houses. _“We don’t even have class with Jungwoo besides potions. And honestly I’m pretty sure potions is the only class the Slytherins were bound to ignore us in.”_

Lucas pouted into his jjigae, eyes flicking over to where Jungwoo sat at the Hufflepuff table, no doubt upset at his lack of class with the Gryffindors, but at least appeased by the tradeoff being Ravenclaws.

_“You know what they all say,”_ Hendery had whispered conspiratorially. _“That ol’ Lee Soo-man’s got a plan to get Gryffindors and Slytherins get along. Bet it’s because he was a Ravenclaw. You know those smartasses are always acting holier than thou every time Gryffindors and the snakes get into it.”_

Mark wasn’t one for conspiracies and frankly, the headmaster didn’t seem to really care how well the houses all got along with one another. At least, he never seemed to bat and eye or seem all that bothered by the number of instances professors slammed on his desk, regarding illegal fighting or general rough housing between the houses. If Mark had to take a wild guess of some sorts, he’d say it was simple: first year was too good to be true. The universe must’ve decided they had it way too easy and decided they needed to work to have a good year. That, or it was karma for goofing off in class.

Whatever it was, Mark could only pray the Slytherin kids found them boring in all classes, not just potions.

.

.

.

The spirit of Godric Gryffindor must have taken pity on them, well, at least pity on Mark. His first month went better than expected. The Slytherins seemed to deem Gryffindors boring no matter where they were, and for the most part ignored them in all their assigned classes, save for a snicker or two when one of them got an answer wrong or someone was called out for dozing in the back of the room. In Lucas’ defense, history of magic wasn’t exactly interesting for those born to pure-blood families.

To make things ever better, Yuta had gone out of his way to make sure Mark got a spot for the quidditch tryouts. While it was his stability and speed on a broom that caught Yuta’s eye, Mark’s skills with the quaffle were even better, and before he knew it, he was on the Gryffindor quidditch team, as one of the youngest chasers in history. The feeling of exhilaration when he scored the winning point for his team at the first game ranked up there with when he received his letter to Hogwarts.

His luck and talent didn’t stop at quidditch. Though Mark wasn’t one for hitting the books in classes like history of magic or reading instructions for subjects such as potions, he was rather good at magic. He only seemed to need to try once or twice before he was nailing a new spell or acing a transfiguration. His professors all seemed to love him as well, singing his praises and telling other students, _“Watch Mark do it.”_

Legend has it that Mark alone racked up about half of the total amount of house points the Gryffindor house got that year. Apparently, with natural talent and a wee bit of fame, a few fans came as well. It was rather flattering when his peers or younger house mates complimented him or said that his level of talent was their personal goal. Mark would just wave them off, flushing bright red and stuttering out his thanks

After all, what was natural talent when it also brought unwanted attention?

.

.

.

_“I’ve never seen anyone look so constipated when reciting such a simple spell.”_

From deeming Mark less worthy than the gum on the bottom on his shoe, to suddenly making it his personal mission to comment on _something_ regarding Mark at least once a day, Lee Donghyuck seemed to have a 180-change of opinion regarding Mark. Well, not that his opinion of the young Gryffindor was positive. However, he at least saw Mark as something worth talking to.

_“You’re just mad he got it on the first try!”_ Lucas, never failing to come to Mark’s defense, still wasn’t enough to get Donghyuck to back off. In fact, it only spurred the young boy further.

_“Oh, that’s rich. See this, everyone? Mark Lee is so important he’s got his brainless bodyguards fighting his battles for him. Or is he incapable of speaking for himself?”_

Never one to be prone to anger, or even feel remotely aggressive in any way, Mark could only glare and turn away.

Problem was, the less of a response Donghyuck got, the more he pressed for one.

.

.

.

_“Not sure if the Gryffindor team is doing so well if they had to settle for Lee as one of their new chasers.”_

_“You know you don’t have to clench your wand so hard. Makes you look like you’re struggling to actually cast the spell.”_

_“Not too bad…though you know what they say, those who do well early on pretty much peak. Sorry Lee, looks like it’s all downhill from here.”_

.

.

.

As a boy who grew up in a loving home with two amazingly kind and patient parents, Mark managed to grow up without the word anger ever entering his vocabulary. He did as he was told by all adults, both muggles and wizards, never talked back, and tried to reach out to those in need, whether it was a lonely classmate or a stray cat.

Mark could really only count on one hand how many times he had lashed out, and it stopped at two. The first dating back to when he attended muggle school and a boy pushed his best friend at the time out of the swing on the playground during recess. The second, was when his mom told him he couldn’t go to the quidditch world cup when he was nine. (Something about his only chaperone being a scatter-brained Hufflepuff who Mark’s parents didn’t know very well). Still, both those incidents were small, short outbursts, one done in defense of his friend, the other out of childish naivety. Mark did not know anger. He didn’t feel it. He didn’t draw from it. He couldn’t even bring himself to have many angry thoughts.

Until Lee Donghyuck.

And apparently there was only so much pushing one could take before that anger finally surfaced.

.

.

.

_“You know, Donghyuck, if you’re that insecure about your spell casting, I could always give you some tips. Though, you have to admit it’s pretty embarrassing for a pureblood like you to need extra tutoring.”_

_“You’re just mad you don’t even know how to stay on a broom.”_

_“Shut your mouth, you fucking snake!”_

That last one cost the Gryffindors eighty house points, but shockingly no detention for Mark. The young boy suspected it was only because the professor at the time was the head of the Gryffindor house.

.

.

.

With Mark responding to Donghyuck’s harassment more often, and typically just as angry and riled up as the Slytherin, their fighting seemed to be constant.

It hit a rather famous peak during a night of dueling club, the last one before Christmas break.

_“If you can beat me in a duel,”_ Donghyuck had wagered, _“then I’ll stop commenting on how bad you are at magic.”_

With gritted teeth and eyes blazing, Mark reluctantly agreed. The posse that made up Donghyuck’s friend group sneered at Mark, patting Donghyuck’s back enthusiastically, murmured words of encouragement spurring the boy on. Mark’s friends offered their own support, with Lucas’ offering a tasteful, _“Kick his stuck-up ass, Mark!”_

It’s a broken memory now. One filled with a terse bow, measured steps, and quick spins before a storm of spells were unleashed on one another in the hidden room of requirement.

Mark fought like a true Gryffindor, toeing the line, and pushing boundaries. He got so close at times that the lion on his crest could have bitten the tail of the snake on Donghyuck’s robes. He sweat harder than he did in any quidditch game. His body was tense, poised to strike. Spells seemed to shoot from his mouth at a rapid-fire pace, the words hitting Donghyuck before the spell could even leave his wand.

But Donghyuck fought like a true Slytherin as well. He was quick, lithe, deflecting and hissing. When Mark stepped forward, he didn’t step back. Instead, he’d spin on his heel, suddenly on the lion’s left, wand raised, mouth deftly moving as his spells snuck from his wand, hitting Mark before the young wizard even realized a new spell was cast.

It’s a broken, colorful memory. And it gnaws and prods at Mark’s subconscious. Because that day, Mark lost, a lion beaten down and exhausted as the snake stood tall and proud over his victory.

.

.

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_“And…and I hate it! It’s stupid, the classes I have to take. And they put us with the Slytherins! I won’t go back, I won’t!”_

Mark’s mother consoled him as he lashed out. The women carded her fingers through her son’s ebony hair, mussed and a bit tangled from where he had tugged and ruffled the strands in frustration.

It had been a somewhat upsetting reunion on the train platform. Mark stepped off, uncharacteristically quiet and stoic. He greeted his parents with stiff hugs and a terse nod when asked if school had been fun so far. It wasn’t until they got home, had dinner, and were cuddled together in the family room when Mark’s father asked if Mark made any new friends that the dam broke.

As parents, their fears and worries shot up when Mark’s eyes filled with tears as he choked on an angry sob before curling into his mother’s side.

Because yes, he had made new friends. Great friends and acquaintances from all years at Hogwarts. He made the quidditch team, got a lot of house points for the Gryffindors, and was a favorite among professors. But that _boy._ That _Slytherin_ who was never far behind any happy moment had wiped any joy that lined those memories. Like a curse, pinned to Mark until the end of time, Donghyuck made sure that every good memory had a sour detail. Whether it was jinxing Mark, commenting on his appearance, or shaming his skills. No matter what it was, Donghyuck had something to say, and the words were seared into his head more vividly and more potent than any happy thought.

_“Please, please don’t make me go back.”_ Beaten down, frustrated and put-out. This was not Mark Lee, brave, talented Gryffindor. This was a lion cub, scared and upset at what the real world had to offer.

Mark’s mother sighed, shifting her hand from her son’s hair to his back, softly rubbing the knots that formed. A child, brave and fitted for Gryffindor, but a child no less.

_“Even if you begged them to, Hogwarts won’t let you leave. You have to stay; it’s required that all young witches and wizards are trained to use their magic.”_

_“But you could teach me! Or we could move! There’s other wizarding schools close by, I could just go there!”_

It was quiet for a moment, Mark’s pleas falling on his mother’s shoulders heavily, like a blanket weighted by guilt and concern. She loved Hogwarts, missed it, and longed for it at times. But Mark was her child. Her baby that was curled into her side, trying to burrow away from the most magical place on earth, crying and begging to stay home from a place that was supposed to bring nothing by joy and inspiration into the hearts of young witches and wizards.

_“You know, I thought you were a Gryffindor.”_

Mark’s father, with not a drop of magical blood running through his veins, but with a heart so courageous Godric Gryffindor himself would bow down, countered. Ever protective and on guard, Mark’s mother tightened her hold on the boy, shooting her husband an incredulous glance. The man ignored the look, gaze pinned to his son.

_“From what I’ve heard, it’s the house of the bravest, most courageous witches and wizards. You inspire others with your boundless determination. So, tell me, why are you really having a bad time at school?”_

Mark looked at his father for a moment, trying to figure out if the truth was truly as shameful as the little voice in his head told him it was.

But the gaze of his father was strong, unyielding. And whether he wanted to keep it inside or not, the truth slipped fell out and onto the ground before Mark could dwell on it any further.

Much like the subject of Mark’s problem, the words slithered and hissed from where they laid on the ground. A truth, and an ugly one, small, but fierce. There was magic and joy at Hogwarts, but there was also danger. It lurked in the forbidden forest, threaded itself in the limbs of the whomping willow, peered at students from the great lake, and laughed, high and haughty from the dungeons of the Slytherin common room.

_“A kid? You’re worked up over some kid?”_

_“Sanghyun!”_

Sanghyun waved off the warning growl of his wife, pinning his son was an incredulous stare. _“Mark, you’ve dealt with bullies and other kids you couldn’t get along with before. What’s so different about this Donghyuck?”_

The short answer was nothing. There was nothing about Donghyuck that set him apart from the kids in muggle school that tripped Mark, from the kids that called him a freak when he mistakenly turned his milk into orange juice at snack time, or the scoundrels that chased him home when class let out each day. Donghyuck persisted, he hit where it hurt, and he left marks, both physical and emotional that so many other students bore witness too, just as his muggle bullies did.

Perhaps the only difference was that with Donghyuck, Mark hit back. He pushed, shoved, and bit scathing words at the Slytherin boy just as often and just as passionately. When he bled, Donghyuck bled. When people stared at Mark, they stared at Donghyuck too. Where Mark was lame, Donghyuck was conceited. Where Mark was lacking, Donghyuck thrived, and where the snake fell short, the lion reigned supreme.

Mark’s father hummed thoughtfully.

 _“My best advice,”_ he began, _“is to stop indulging him. Sounds to me like this kid is a bit jealous of your skills. You feeding into his teasing makes him think that you’re truly no better than he is. So, be better.”_

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And better Mark was. The young boy wasn’t able to completely ignore Donghyuck. The Slytherin made that near impossible. But when Donghyuck commented on Mark form, the boy chose to shrug in response. When Donghyuck bragged about how he did better than Mark on a test, Mark simple pursed his lips and went back to ignoring him.

In the end, spring wound up far more peaceful than its preceding winter.

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_“And then he was like BAM! But you were like WHOOSH! And then Yuta swooped in and tossed you the quaffle and WOO! You should have seen the looks on the Ravenclaw’s team!”_

As usual, the cabin Mark and his friends made up was as lively as ever as Lucas recounted the last quidditch game of the year where the Gryffindors beat out the Ravenclaw team, scoring the quidditch cup for the second year in a row.

After taking his father’s advice to heart, Mark managed to have a much more laidback latter half of his second year at Hogwarts. Donghyuck and the other Slytherins didn’t exactly back down, but Mark and his friends managed to ignore them all at least half the time. For the times they didn’t ignore each other, the words packed a much less powerful blow, and both houses managed to avoid having dozens of points deducted for constant arguing.

The year managed to improve so much that Mark actually found himself a little sad to then be taking the Hogwarts Express home for the summer. He had already filled his parents in over letter, but it was nice knowing he’d be able to ensure them in person that he had definitely changed his mind about school. Now knowing a little bit more on how to handle Donghyuck, the young Gryffindor found himself far more excited for the next school year than he had previously been.

Nine snack-and-story-filled hours later, the Hogwarts Express clanged to a final stop on platform nine-and-three-quarters where a sea of families eagerly awaiting their loved ones waited.

Mark gathered his things, including his beautiful, white owl, Hayan, and stepped off the train after Jeno.

Mark’s feet barely stepped off the bright red steam engine before he was swept into a hug so bone crushingly tight, Hayan screeched from his cage.

_“Mom!”_ Mark tried to scold, but it came out gigglier than he would’ve liked. The Ravenclaw alumna sighed happily as she hugged her son, pointing out, _“I know I just saw you over spring break but let me have this! It’s not easy for a mom to not have her child around, you know.”_

It took a few more seconds of tight swaying before Hye-Jin finally released her son, stepping aside to let his father pull him into a just as tight, but much briefer hug.

_“Alright,”_ the man said as he stepped away. _“Mark, we’ll take your things to the car if you want to take a moment to say goodbye to your friends.”_

Jeno, Jungwoo, Lucas and Hendery, who were just managing to free themselves from the clutches of their own parents, regrouped with Mark on the platform.

_“Another year down,”_ Hendery sighed, stretching his arms exasperatedly. If there was one thing Mark learned about purebloods, it was that despite their mutual love of Hogwarts, they did manage to see it more as work than the half-blood and muggle-born students. _“Kind of worried for next year, heard that that’s when the essay length requirements really get excessive.”_

Lucas’ eyes bulged rather comically. _“There’s more essays?”_

 _“Did you think they’d stop after second year?”_ Jeno wondered.

Lucas raised his hands defensively. _“I thought written work was only for underclassmen!”_

Hendery howled. _“Oh, my poor dude, you’ve got a whole lot of bad news coming your way.”_

Lucas moaned in defeat, shoulders drooping as Jungwoo patted his back sympathetically. Mark spared the muggle-born a quick smile before his eyes caught a flash of movement. He glanced over to where a fairly decently sized family stood. Their hair was styled, clothes black and tailored to fit their bodies perfectly. On the large platform crowded with families, their gleaming eyes and honey-toned skin stuck out in a way that was both frighteningly intimidating, and knee-buckling hypnotizing. A woman, petite and slim, reached out her bat-wing sleeved arms to engulf a boy, small, and practically a spitting image of the dark-haired woman that held him. Lee Donghyuck, and his family.

Jeno, who stood beside Mark laughing at Lucas’ antics, quieted as he noticed his friend’s fixed stare. Following it, he sighed, as if fully understanding Mark’s fascination.

_“The Lee family.”_ Hendery, who was also quick to note Mark’s sudden point of interest, grumbled at the purebloods across the way. _“One of the most powerful and notorious lines of purebloods.”_

Mark flicked his gaze over the group of people. The woman, still holding tight to Donghyuck, was who Mark assumed was the boy’s mother, appeared young and was quite pretty. Beside her was an older gentleman, much too grey and poised to be Donghyuck’s father. Two other women flanked the group from the back, one just as petite as Donghyuck’s mother, holding a small baby, and the other, tall and gaunt, flicked her gaze around the platform, clutching her arms as she took in the crowd. Mark also noticed that Ten (an upperclassman whose real name evaded Mark) stood with the group, looking rather distracted and bored.

Hendery noted Mark’s quizzical brow at the presence of the sixth year. _“Cousins,”_ he offered as clarification. _“Ten’s mom married into the Lee family.”_

Besides Ten there were a few other kids, notably Ten’s sister who Mark forgot was the same age as him. She was quiet and was one of the few Slytherins that didn’t seek out arguments with the Gryffindors. Tugging on her sleeve was a little boy, no older than four or five, seeming to babble nonsense to her while another little boy attempted to take her pet rat from its cage. The petite woman beside Ten holding the baby attempted to pry his little fingers off the rat carrier at the family slowly gathered their things.

_“They’re a rather notorious family amongst the Slytherins. Not as infamous as the Suh’s, but still pretty influential,”_ Jeno tacked on. _“Still, my parents don’t trust them, and having now dealt with their most recent Hogwarts attendee, I have to agree.”_

Mark nodded reflexively, eyes following the black-clad family as he got a faint look into Donghyuck’s personal life. It wasn’t much, merely the cover of the book that made up Donghyuck’s secrets. Still, it was perhaps the most normal and least aggravating thing Mark had witnessed so far, the sight of the boy with his family.

Always aware of a gaze pinned to his back, Donghyuck turned briefly, glancing over his shoulder to lock his eyes with Mark’s. There was no fading of background noise or slowing down of his surroundings. The world spun on, families and peers darting around the two as their gazes stayed locked. For what felt like a forever to Mark, nothing happened. He expected the young Slytherin to stick out his tongue or perhaps pull something as cheeky as flipping the bird to the Gryffindor.

Instead, in the most surprising and jolting turn of events, Donghyuck merely raised a hand and gave Mark a quick, brief wave, silently bidding his rival a goodbye as their paths diverged for summer break.

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_Third Year_

By the time third year rolled around, Mark was freshly thirteen and going through more changes than he could be bothered to keep up with.

One of the biggest changes was some sweeping changes in the staff at Hogwarts. A fair amount of the professors that had been teaching finally retired, ushering in a new generation of faculty all over the span of a single summer break. Mark would consider this change as one of the better ones to grace Hogwarts, as he found the new, youthful faces of the rookie professors refreshing and easier to relate to, given their younger age. Mark particularly liked the new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Mark already had a particular fondness for the class, but Professor Park Chanyeol made it even more entertaining to be in, _and_ the professor was the newly appointed head of the Gryffindors, resulting in a win-win-win situation.

Another change that Mark was starting to experience was a change in his physical self. His dark hair was still a mess on top of his head, but the strands were shinier, and were more of a glossy black, rather than the previous, muted, and dusty ones. He still wore his glasses, but they seemed to fit his face a bit better, as his features became a bit more defined, sharper even. His height shot up a couple inches (which lost its significance when he saw that Lucas had gained about half a foot in height alongside Jungwoo), and his voice had finally cracked passed its boyish barrier. Gone were squeaky, crackling words of excitement and in their place, a low, more soothing drawl flowed outward, making his spell casting sound regal and more mature.

Everyone else seemed to have changed over the summer as well. Jeno lost his messy mop of black hair and had sent his friend reeling over the sight of his pale, blonde hairdo, styled up and off his forehead, revealing an equally developed face. Their entire friend group began speaking in lower tones that year and found themselves smirking at the double takes the witches and wizards in their year and below would send them. Though Hendery swore up and down that a girl in fifth year checked him out when he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Yuta, in his sixth year at that point, was beyond happy with the steady growth of Mark and his friends. Not only was Mark’s slight increase in height and muscle mass advantageous to the quidditch team, but Jeno and Lucas’ newfound athletic builds proved useful as well. Within the first month of their third year, Jeno was roped in as a new chaser and Lucas as a beater. Needless to say, Mark was happy with the development and the boys found themselves even more popular as people began to recognize the three for their skills in magic _and_ sport.

All around him, people seemed to be changing. Jaehyun had gotten himself a girlfriend, but there were whispers that he was caught fooling around with the newest, male Ravenclaw prefect. Unfortunately, despite his constant prodding, Mark’s curiosity regarding the rumor went unsatisfied. Jungwoo had made the simple change of parting his chocolate locks down the middle, exposing his joyful face that had managed to sharpen _just a bit_ , over the summer, but the innocent glow in his eyes remained bright and alive.

Another change that was for the better was their schedules. Though the Gryffindors still had potions, divination, and defense against the dark arts with the Slytherins, their schedules were still fairly mixed, and they were fortunate enough to be in classes with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs too.

Changes seemed to be affecting everyone and everything at Hogwarts, including those that Mark would rather not have to deal with. Two younger Slytherins in particular seemed to undergo a change that made them rather…bold.

_“Damnnn, look who we got over here!”_

_“Mark Lee! Back at it, absolutely killin’ it in quidditch!”_

_“Go get em’ tiger!”_

A playful shove. _“Idiot. Gryffindors are lions!”_

_“I know that, Jisung! It’s a muggle expression!”_

Chenle and Jisung, two Slytherins a year below Mark, seemed to decide that all they needed was a year at Hogwarts to get more comfortable. As second years, their ostentatious personalities and inability to talk at a normal volume resulted in them becoming rather notorious rather fast. It was unclear whether their obsession with Mark stemmed from personal interests, or if other Slytherins tipped them off. Regardless of where their motivation came from, they seemed to deem the Gryffindor boy worthy of harassing on a nearly daily basis. They were loud, annoying, and far too confident for two underclassmen.

And yet Mark found them more amusing then he should, often smiling at their antics and playfully hexing them back.

_“I think Chenle’s parents were both Gryffindors, or at least one of them was,”_ Jeno mused as they watched the two Slytherins chase each other on the moving staircases. _“I know one of Jisung’s parents was a Slytherin, the other Ravenclaw. Either way, I think they’ve got enough of their parents in them to keep them fairly tolerable.”_

Mark wondered what his mother would of thought if he had been placed in Slytherin. No doubt she’d still love him, and if he was at least half as tolerable as Chenle and Jisung, there probably wouldn’t be an issue at all.

The final big change Mark noted, came bearing fiery red hair and a new, notorious nickname.

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_“’Haechan’?”_ Jeno peered curiously up at the tall Slytherin before them, whose face seemed to always have a smirk etched into it. _“Who’s Haechan?”_

Jaemin, one of Donghyuck’s friends and newly added chaser to the Slytherin quidditch team, chuckled. _“It’s Donghyuck’s nickname. Means full sun. Y’know, ‘cause he’s so bright and fun!”_

Mark couldn’t stifle the scoff that burst from his lips if he tried. _“Don’t exactly think nice weather pairs well with him.”_

Jaemin most definitely had heard him, but the quiet Slytherin seemed to possess an impeccable talent in the art of ignoring people. He went on to explain that _Haechan_ had asked Jaemin to tell Jeno that Professor Park was looking for him. Something about Haechan not wanting to do it himself since it ran him the risk of running into Mark again. Said Gryffindor didn’t even try to smother his huff of disbelief at that one. He’s not sure who in their right mind would name that asshole after something as warm and bright as the sun.

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Not only was Haechan experimenting with a new nickname and a bright new hairdo, he seemed to be dabbling in the world of beauty too. Rumor was that Nayeon, another Slytherin their age, was practicing her spells for altering one’s look. Supposedly she was inspired to use Haechan after seeing his bright red hair. Something about him being innovative or unique or some other bullshit the Slytherins were always spewing about him.

Still, Mark failed their first encounter after the two bumped into each other leaving Divination, shoulders colliding like tectonic plates.

Mark didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that it had been their first time physically touching one another, even if it was brief and padded by their robe-clad shoulders. Haechan made quick work of huffing, told him to ‘watch it,’ and sauntered off.

Mark felt the retort die on his lips, because while his shoulder burned, hot and tingling, he was momentarily distracted by the icy gaze of Haechan’s newly blue eyes.

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_“I just don’t get why he’d change his eye color to blue.”_

Lucas sighed, set down his sandwich, and rubbed his face tiredly. _“I don’t get why we’re talking about this. He dyed his hair red, had Nayeon give him blue eyes, and goes by Haechan now. He’s experimenting. Now, can we please talk about something else?”_

_“It’s just weird…”_

Jeno had rolled his eyes at that while Lucas fully engaged himself with his sandwich, tuning Mark out completely.

_“I went blonde over the summer. Guess he’s just trying new things. Just ignore him and be thankful he’s been bothering you less this year.”_

_“Yeah man! And who give’s a crap about him when we’ve got our first trip to Hogsmeade coming up?”_

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Changes seemed to keep rolling in as the weeks passed on by. Slowly but surely, the leaves lost their lush, plump, emerald hues and withered away until they turned to dust as students carelessly trekked over them on their way to class. Sunny days got shorter and shorter as clouds became a permanent fixture in the sky above. Students rolled their sleeves back down and tossed on their scarves, hands tucked under their arms as they giddily went about their day, eager to go to Hogsmeade on the weekends.

Mark and co were just as upbeat as their peers. Where quidditch practice was now cold and frosty, their games were even more exhilarating as they played together. Classes got more and more interesting as they matured and became ready for new spells, and the new round of younger, more relatable professors offered a fresh perspective on the magical world. Mark was particularly happy to see Professor Moon Taeil, the new Care of Magical Creatures instructor. Taeil had been in his seventh year at Hogwarts when Mark first started and was the head boy for the Gryffindors at the time. Mark latched onto him fairly quickly and found it hard to adjust to calling him Professor Moon. Fortunately, Taeil seemed at ease with whatever his students chose to call him, always smiling and lending a hand when needed.

Before anyone knew what had hit them, the first half of the year had come and gone. Mark had enjoyed another Christmas at home but had the opportunity to visit Jeno during the holiday break as well, exchanging gifts with the boy in person as they recounted their adventures to their parents together.

_“And that boy?”_ Mark’s father inquired. _“What was his name? You said he had been giving you a hard time last year.”_

Jeno had scoffed at that one. _“That’s putting it lightly.”_

Mark offered no comment on Jeno’s remark but explained the slight shift in situation to his dad. _“He still bothers me from time to time, mostly hexing me or laughing when I get something wrong. Honestly, he’s backed off a bit, so it’s been easier to handle him.”_

Mark’s father nodded, appeased. His mother, pursed her lips, searching her son’s face for something, though Mark’s not sure what that could be. Whatever it was, be it a hint of a lie or something deeper, she seemed to have found it and hummed thoughtfully before turning to Jeno’s parents. _“This pound cake is lovely, Areum. Any chance I could get a copy of your recipe?”_

With new instructions for a delicious desert snug in her purse, and Mark’s arms bulging with gifts, the Lee’s bid Jeno’s family goodbye, with the boys promising to meet up once again before heading back to school.

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Though holiday season passed before anyone could really fully embrace it, winter stayed where she was, with her icy claws wrapped around the Hogwarts grounds, keeping students bundled and scuttling from shelter to shelter to avoid the cold.

Lucas threatened to quit quidditch on five separate occasions before January was even over, but Yuta waved him off each time. Something about the bone chilling air being ‘a great motivator.’ Jeno smiled tightly, always more accommodating and positive than those around him, but Mark was beginning to worry that rather than genuine joy, his features had become frozen in a permanent, soft smile. After all, it was hard to keep smiling even after taking a bludger to the stomach. Lucas insisted it wouldn’t have happened if Yuta would just let them wait to train in the afternoon when it was slightly warmer.

Yuta, ever fearful of other teams watching from afar, had them stick to their six-a.m. practice.

He was certainly the odd one out, but Mark liked the cold. He enjoyed the beautiful blanket of snow that covered the Hogwarts ground, the exhilarating feeling of cold air hitting his face, and the perfect excuse it all gave for them to stay warm and lazy in the Gryffindor common room. Hendery deemed him ‘crazy,’ for his unnatural love of cold weather, grumbling that Mark could be the one to grab them more sweets from Honeydukes on the weekends. Jungwoo, too kind for his own good, insisted he saw where Mark was coming from and would happily accompany the boy down into Hogsmeade. The company was appreciated, but Mark couldn’t stand the sight of Jungwoo shivering so bad he nearly toppled over and insisted Jungwoo wear his scarf and extra coat.

As the winter season approached the latter days of January, more and more students opted for staying in the castle and foregoing a trip to Hogsmeade if it meant they could keep all ten of their fingers from the cruel fate of frostbite. The Three Broomsticks, which was usually bustling and rowdy, was notably quieter than it used to be. Mark used to be able to bump into someone he knew within a few steps. Now, seated at a table drinking butterbeer in a feeble attempt to warm Jungwoo up, he could see almost every occupant of the pub, with less familiar faces and even more so bundled up all he could identify were eyes of shivering students, still too cold to remove their outwear as they ordered the warmest drinks The Three Broomsticks had. 

On one particularly cold trip, with steaming butterbeer clasped in their hands, Mark noted a few (unfortunately) familiar faces seated only a table away from Jungwoo and himself.

Jaemin, Renjun, and Yangyang, three of Haechan’s more notorious friends were chuckling and clinking their glasses merrily. Truthfully, Mark was often too caught up in his feuding with Haechan to take much notice of those he surrounded himself with, but they all made sure to make their presence known eventually.

Jaemin sometimes reminded Mark of Jeno, almost always smiling, and seeming a bit calmer than Haechan’s other friends. His hair was a soft brown, often fluffed and windblown as if he had just landed his broom from a round of flying. He always had Haechan’s back but would more often smile and give a polite nod in Mark’s direction rather than seeking out a fight. But there was something about Jaemin’s gaze, the way it could pin you down and see straight through you, riffling through your thoughts, that had Mark shivering and avoiding him as best he could.

Renjun, the shortest of Haechan’s friends, was a bit harder to deal with. For what he lacked in height he made up for with scalding remarks that cut deep. When Haechan was spewing insults, Renjun, who unlike Haechan who really only targeted Mark, went for the jugular of any Gryffindor he locked his gaze on. Jeno had been burned a few times, even Hendery and Jungwoo, but poor Lucas seemed to face quite lot of the boy’s wrath and was Renjun’s favorite person to hex out of all of Mark’s friends.

Finally, perhaps one of the more difficult ones to get a read on, was Yangyang. Yangyang was best described as a ticking time bomb. Most of the time, he sat there, lazing away without a care in the world. But when he lashed out, it was quick and sudden, expected, but no less jarring. He knew exactly which moment to lunge for the kill. There were times when he seemed rather childish and brash, but there were also times he seemed far older than he actually was. He was obnoxious and yet he was rather similar to Mark, even joined the Slytherin quidditch team his second year as a chaser, just like the young Gryffindor. Most of the time, he picked on the easy targets, like the first year Gryffindors or poor Jungwoo. But, sometimes, Mark would feel a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, only to turn and lock eyes with Yangyang. Haechan was the most snake-like Slytherin Mark had ever met. Haechan, however, felt more like an Autumn Adder snake, dangerous upon first glance, but captivating and intriguing enough to want to step closer, even if it meant the risk of getting bit. With Yangyang it was like turning and coming face to face with a cobra: terrifying, numbing, and too late to get away. For that reason, it was best to avoid him entirely.

Yet, the lack of Haechan’s presence always seemed to take away from the threatening aura of his friends. It felt like most of the time they followed his orders, and if he wasn’t around to command an attack, there usually wasn’t one. So, Mark really couldn’t help himself.

_“Your precious king of arrogance too afraid of catching the flu or something?”_

The way the heads of the three Slytherins turned was like something out of a nature documentary. It was slow, deadly. A tentative, warning touch of a badger grasped Mark’s arm, both pleading for peace and inquiring _why? Why would you pick a fight with them?_

Jaemin’s lips were already curled into a soft smile, but Mark swore the corners of the boy’s mouth found a way to twitch just a bit more until the smirk went from easy-going to hungry.

_“His majesty doesn’t like the cold,”_ Jaemin answered in jest. _“Our little sunshine is hibernating at the moment. I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you’re missing him, though.”_

Mark sneered. _“Figures, it’s just like him to send his lackeys grocery shopping in his stead.”_

 _“Oh,”_ Yangyang drawled. _“Are you not doing the exact thing for your friends?”_

 _“Mark offered,”_ Jungwoo, never one to defend himself but always stepping up for others huffed through chattering teeth.

Renjun, for once, seemed bored with the prospect of an argument. _“God,”_ Jaemin and Yangyang spun to look at him, _“can we just drop it for today? I’m not exactly a huge fan of freezing my ass off either. Can we just grab Haechan’s sugar quills and head on back?”_

Jaemin turned to glance at Mark. _“Haechan doesn’t like sour things. Sugar quills are easier for him to handle.”_

Mark sputtered out something about not caring while Renjun yanked the two Slytherins up by their scarves and dragged them out of the pub. Eyes rolling, Mark relaxed his shoulders and sipped at his butterbeer. Jungwoo observed him for a moment, eyes darting from the door of the pub creaking shut after the Slytherins to Mark’s disgruntled face.

_“I suggest maybe waiting a half hour before going to Honeydukes? They’ll probably be gone by then.”_

As always, Jungwoo made the smile reappear on Mark’s face as he nodded, and the two slowly downed the last of their drinks.

In a sick, twisted way, Mark focused on finding pleasure in Haechan’s hatred of the cold. Though Mark had no idea if it was even possible to control weather, he’d like to know if there was a spell to make it snow. The idea that winter, breathtakingly dangerous winter, Mark’s favorite season, kept Haechan inside, made the Gryffindor feel oddly smug. His favorite season, of all things, was enough to thwart the annoying Slytherin boy.

Later that night, Lucas huffed in annoyance at their haul.

_“Mark, man, I hate sugar quills!”_

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Winter tapered off just a bit by the time Valentine’s Day rolled around. There was still snow on the ground and the air was still chilly, but students were reinvigorated by the prospect of only having a little over a month of cold weather left and were more inclined the leave their common rooms.

All around the castle couples seemed to be embracing the Valentine’s Day spirit. Mark got a particular kick out of Jaehyun being dragged to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop with his then girlfriend, and Yuta’s failed attempt at getting Winwin’s, a Ravenclaw a year above Mark, attention with obnoxious bouquets and sweets.

_“I thought Valentine’s Day was the day a girl was supposed to give gifts?”_ Lucas wondered aloud post quidditch match, as the team bore witness to yet another rejection from Winwin to Yuta. _“Does that mean Yuta is taking on the girl’s role?”_

The team groaned and Lucas earned himself twenty laps of jogging around the quidditch pitch for that one. It wasn’t until Lucas slammed his way into the great hall later that evening, drenched in sweat, claiming he still didn’t know what he said wrong that Mark finally took pity on the boy and explained things clearly.

_“Oh,”_ Lucas pursed his lips thoughtfully. _“So, does that mean he’ll still try to woo him on White Day, too?”_

 _“Probably,”_ Hendery answered shortly. _“Now, onto more important things. I didn’t get any chocolates this year, which, frankly, I’m shocked about. But I heard that there’s some mini chocolate Bundt cakes in the kitchen. And since I got the food with Lucas last time, Jeno and Jungwoo before that, it’s your turn Mark.”_

Right before Christmas break of that year, Mark had been tipped off by Jungkook, a friend of Jaehyun’s, that there was a way to sneak into the kitchens and score some food. Reluctant to do so, more out of concern for the house elves getting in trouble than himself, Mark told his friends, but didn’t really participate in the raiding of the kitchens. Often times, Hendery or Lucas would go. Jungwoo only went once after Lucas begged him to, and Jeno managed to go a few times to keep Hendery from nagging too much. It appeared, however, that Mark’s evading of such an endeavor was finally over.

_“Come on guys,”_ he had attempted to plea. _“What if I just snag some stuff from Jaehyun’s stash?”_

_“No can do, man. I want real food, not week-old sweets sitting at the bottom of Jaehyun’s trunk. Come on, I already told you the house elves don’t care. Besides, they like you a lot based on what I’ve heard, so they’ll probably go the extra mile and pack it all up for you.”_

Hendery was something of a master negotiator and when that failed…

_“Plus, even Jungwoo has gone in your stead. The least you could do is return the favor.”_

He was also a master guilt-tripper.

_“Fine,”_ Mark conceded. _“But don’t expect me to come back with a whole feast. I’ll grab what I can and then I’m out.”_

Dinner slowly came to an end that night and the boys made their way up to the common room and passed the time with some rounds of chess, waiting until most of the students had retreated to their dorms which was typically a rough forty minutes before curfew hit.

_“Remember, tickle the pear and then grab as much as you can. Then take the far-left corridor back, there’s less portraits there that’ll tattle. Watch for peeves though, if he can’t find anyone to harass near the astronomy tower, the corridor is his next target,”_ Hendery advised as Mark slipped on his quietest part of sneakers and zipped a hoodie up.

Mark relayed his understanding before slipping out of the common room and casually making his way down to the kitchens. He wound up having to wait a rough fifteen minutes until students lingering nearby left the area, so no one saw him tickle the portrait of the pear and slip into the wall. Upon sight of the young Gryffindor, the house elves squealed in excitement, rushing over to greet him.

_“Master Lee! You were fantastic in the quidditch game today!”_

_“Oh, indeed, Master Lee! We watched from a little hideout!”_

_“Would you like some cake, Master Lee?”_

Mark waved off the tiny crowd of house elves that had gathered around him. Though he had never been to the kitchen, he still managed to obtain a bit of a following when it came to the house elves. Most likely it dated back to the time in second year when he grabbed Yeolly, a rather tiny house elf, and saved him from being run over by one of the carriages that took the students from the express to the castle. Ever since then, Mark’s name was notorious amongst the house elves for saving the poor guy from being run through by a large wheel.

Mark had just managed to wave off the last elf when he heard a scoff.

_“Should have guessed that you’d have a fan club made up of house elves. Here to get your valentine from one of them?”_

Of all the things Mark made a mental note of to avoid, Lee Donghyuck being in the kitchen was not one he had considered. Donghyuck, or more commonly known by that time, Haechan, was sitting up on a counter, snacking on a bowl of potato chips.

_“And I should’ve known that if something about my trip to the kitchens was to go wrong, it’d of course trace back to you.”_

The poor house elves huddled into a group amongst themselves, wide eyes darting between the two boys as they faced off in a terse battle of glares.

_“Um,”_ a tiny house elf, Rosie, spoke up. _“Master Haechan came by about thirty minutes ago, Master Lee. But don’t worry, there’s plenty of food for the both of you.”_

Mark waved her off, offering a gentle smile, earning another snort from Haechan.

_“It’s fine, he doesn’t own the kitchens, though I’m sure he acts like he does.”_

_“Oh, piss off!”_

_“So, he can deal with me being here while I grab some food for me and my friends.”_

The house elves looked between the two once more and after confirming that a duel between the two was unlikely to break out, scampered off to prepare baskets of food for the boys. After all, it would be best to just get the two out of the kitchen entirely before a fight really did start.

As the little elves worked to grab food for the two, Mark turned and looked over where Haechan sat casually atop a counter. He opted for a less sneaky outfit than Mark, donned in only a pair of black sweats and matching t-shirt. His red hair was mused, a tiny half-inch of black roots peeking out from his scalp. He had his legs crossed, swinging carelessly over the edge of the counter while he tossed another pretzel into his mouth. He was the picture of ease, but Mark noted the way his blue eyes were locked on Mark’s every move, eyes tracing down to take note of the Gryffindor’s wand tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Haechan’s own arm was lazily draped across his lap, but Mark noted the handle of the boy’s own wand barely poking out of the pocket of his sweatpants, easy for Haechan to draw out like a sword if needed.

_“I’ve been wondering,”_ Haechan broke the silence, posture no less on guard, _“when you Gryffindors play against the Hufflepuff team, who does your friend know who to root for?”_

It was unclear if the question was a distraction or a shoddy attempt at establishing peace, at least in that moment. Either way, Mark decided to roll with it, stepping closer to lean his lower back against the opposite counter, diagonal from Haechan. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark noted the slight uptick in speed as the house elves worked to pack their food up faster.

_“Jungwoo isn’t fond of quidditch enough to really care,”_ Mark explained. If Haechan was going to refer to Mark’s friends, the least he could do was use their names. _“He’s close to us, but we’re not offended when he’s happy that the Hufflepuffs win.”_

The snake grinned, slow and measured, _“Like today?”_

The lion grinned back, challenging, _“Like today. Have to let them win sometimes.”_

Haechan hummed, scanning Mark up and down. For a few moments, he said nothing, eventually peeling his gaze away from the Gryffindor to peer idly down at his nails.

_“Tell me, Lee, do you ever get tired of showboating?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Oh, come on.”_ Icy blue eyes flicked up once more. _“The way you strut around with your friends as if you’re the best thing to grace the halls. Plus, your weird martyr complex when it comes to helping everyone out all the time.”_

_“I suppose I should be flattered that you’re watching me closely enough to notice these things.”_

Haechan’s eyes narrowed.

_“Sadly,”_ Mark went on, _“I don’t strut and helping out and protecting others is something normal people do.”_

Haechan bit into another chip, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. The arm that had been draped across his lap pulled back and went to prop the boy up instead as the Slytherin reclined a bit on the counter. _“Whatever you say. You Gryffindors are all the same, though. It’s like you walk around thinking you guys are the coolest and everyone wants to be like you. I’ll admit, you’ve got talent in some areas, but I wouldn’t let it get to your head.”_

Mark had been tempted to correct the boy and explain that it was more than talent. It was Mark pouring over his notes, monitoring duels, waking up at the crack of dawn for quidditch practice, and countless hours spent reciting a spell over and over again, even if he got it on the first try, just to make sure it was perfect.

_“Is that why you’re always bothering me?”_ he settled on asking. _“Are you adamant on making sure you’re better than me or something?”_

_“I never thought I was better than you.”_

Mark raised a brow at that one. _“Really? So, you just critique and harass me all the time…why exactly? Bit of a strange hobby if you ask me.”_

Haechan paused in that moment, peering at Mark with a look the other boy had never really found himself on the receiving end up before. It wasn’t challenging or skeptical. It was almost intrigue, confusion. Like Haechan was trying to figure something out about Mark of all people who, as far as said Gryffindor was concerned, was practically an open book. Mark said things without thinking, never lied, and always stayed true to himself. Even if something ran him the risk of being mocked or questioned. He just did what felt right and no one ever questioned it. There was never a need to figure Mark out because there was nothing that wasn’t perfectly obvious on the surface.

In that long moment of silence that stretched on, Rosie meandered back over, dragging two baskets full of food with her across the ground. _“Here you are sirs. We’ve packed some of the best food we have.”_

Mark broke his stare with Haechan to lean down and offer a thankful handshake to Rosie, who tentatively clasped his hand in both of hers, body vibrating in excitement and nerves. _“Thank you,”_ Mark murmured. _“You really didn’t have to do all this; my friends and I would have been happy with just a couple of Bundt cakes.”_

_“We insist, Master! We’re only sorry there isn’t more to give.”_

Mark waved her off, accepting the basket graciously.

_“I like a challenge.”_

 _“What?”_ Mark looked back at Haechan, whose look of confusion was wiped away at last, replaced with an easy-going expression that begged for a response.

_“A challenge. I can admit you’ve got talent, and you’re clearly one of the more talented wizards here. If I went up against your friend Lucas in a duel, it’d be over way too quickly. There’s no fun in that.”_

Unamused, Mark responded curtly, _“I wouldn’t underestimate Lucas. Or any other student for that matter.”_

Haechan shrugged. _“Need I remind you I beat you in that duel last year? Which reminds me, do me a favor, would you?”_

Haechan leapt off the counter, sweeping down to grab his basket and make his way towards the exit.

_“Duel me again before the year’s over.”_

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.

.

In due time, winter eventually bid its final goodbye, leaving one last sheet of frost and a final kiss to Mark’s cheek before disappearing for another eight months. The students, reinvigorated by the sight of greenery and sunshine filled days, emerged, and filled the grounds of Hogwarts once more. They stretched out in the courtyard, by the lake, and teased the edges of the forbidden forest. Changes continued to permeate the air at Hogwarts as students got a little tanner in the sun, some shot up another inch or so, and various couples seemed to be emerging left and right as some began to experience instances of young love for the first time.

As warmth filled the air, the icy barrier around the hearts of some seemed to thaw a bit. Baffled, Mark’s friends looked on as their fellow Gryffindor bent down to pick up a quill Haechan dropped in class a week before their spring break.

Onlookers gawked when Haechan offered a short, muffled ‘congrats’ at Mark when the Gryffindor team won the quidditch game that would send them into the finals.

Professors waited for awkward amounts of time when Mark or Haechan would do something in class that would typically arise a response from the other. But, when no biting remark or silent hex came, they would only shrug and continue on with the lesson.

It was, perhaps, the strangest change to hit the entirety of Hogwarts that year.

When prompted, Haechan would say he didn’t know what people were talking about. He still hexed Mark plenty, and even rolled his eyes when Mark scored points for the Gryffindors.

Mark, too, insisted nothing had changed. He’d frown at Haechan’s quiet gloating when he quickly mastered a spell and would return every hex the young Slytherin sent his way with an equally petty one.

It wasn’t until spring was beginning to hit its peak that things started to piece together. It was the last week before the end of the school year. Summer was only weeks away at that point, and the shift in the air, the slight buzz of excitement that tacked itself on to warm weather, was more prominent than ever.

Slowly, carefully, the opportunity was aligning. It wasn’t until the third to the last night before school ended that it all made sense.

Crowded together in the room of requirement, notified by gossiping first and second years, dozens of kids from every house came together when they heard tell of a duel between Mark and Haechan. Two of the strongest wizards their houses had to offer, bearing casual clothes and a tenseness that others could not identify, bowed to each other once again.

The second duel was more memorable for Mark, but it was about ten times more disappointing.

Spells flew, people cheered and awed. It was a battle that stretched on for longer than a typical duel, but it felt like it was over in seconds.

Haechan deflected and hit back at Mark with everything he had. Mark, in turn, would cast spells that other third years had no idea even existed, spinning, and playing the defensive roll perfectly.

Then, suddenly, randomly, blue eyes locked with brown, a slip of the wrist too careless to be accidental, and Mark landed the finishing blow.

The Gryffindors cheered with a majority of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs chiming in as well, while Haechan’s rat pack rushed to his side, nearly blocking the boy entirely from Mark’s sight.

Lucas tackled the dark-haired victor with a bear hug from behind.

_“Man, you showed him, Mark!”_

Jeno clapped proudly and excitedly from beside him, Hendery too busy taunting the Slytherins, encouraging chants of _Mark! Mark! Mark!_

Said victor accepted the pats on his back, the high fives, and the screams of excitement. But not a single smile made its way to his lips as he kept his gaze fixed on the fallen Slytherin. He felt odd, floaty even. His body seemed disconnected from his mind. The noise around him felt like a distant buzz because only one word would echo louder in his head than any scream or chant because _why?_

Renjun made quick work of shoving Hendery out of the way as he led Haechan and the rest out of the room while the defeated wizard kept his gaze locked with Mark’s. Mark was half tempted to stop them, to soar over and block the exit because _why, dammit?_

_Why did you throw the match?_

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.

_Fourth Year_

Mark’s fourth year of Hogwarts was best recapped in the safety of a therapist’s office, stretched out on a couch, hands folded together across his stomach, while the boy tried to determine if fourth year actually happened, or if he had made it all up in his head.

Summer had been generous to everyone once again. Jeno and Lucas continued to shoot up in height, followed closely by Jungwoo. Hendery and Mark were lucky enough to get another inch as well, and Mark was the only one who had suddenly found himself needing to shave the thin coat of stubble his chin and upper lip would get.

Jeno, having grown bored of his blonde hair, opted back for his natural black color, matching Hendery who bore a similar style. Mark had decided to lighten his hair to a soft brown, similar to what Jungwoo had had the year before (said Hufflepuff decided to be a bit more daring and opted for a deep, midnight blue color that stuck around for their fourth year). Mark had finally learned how to manage his hair a bit more, styling it up and off his forehead a bit. He also got around to persuading his parents into getting him contacts, finally retiring his glasses to his bedside table.

Their voices also continued to crack and lower in volume, only jumping up in pitch when they got worked up over a quidditch match. Their shoulders began to broaden and the muscles in their arms and legs were more defined, allowing the boys to fill out their t-shirts in a more flattering manner, the fabric no longer hanging loosely on their once gangly bodies.

Lucas had been so excited over the recent development of his abdominals, that he wound up flashing the newly formed muscles to his friends in the cabin of the Hogwarts Express, just as a group of second year Hufflepuff girls walked by. The girls had scurried off in a flutter of blushes and giggles, but there was suddenly an uptick in passersby for the rest of the ride as girls strolled more slowly past the cabin of five boys on their way to Hogwarts.

Suddenly, with no warning or indication that such a change was coming, they were _popular_.

Mark, Jeno, and Lucas found themselves graced with little notes tucked under their goblets or in their quidditch lockers, filled with words of affection and, oddly, in Mark’s opinion, sprayed with faint hints of perfume. Hendery would even offer somewhat shitty excuses for why he couldn’t accompany them to Hogsmeade, only for the boys to then catch him in The Three Broomsticks with his arm slung around a pretty girl. Even Jungwoo had to turn away a sweet Hufflepuff in the year below him, after she asked if he maybe wanted to go to Madam Puddifoot’s with her.

It seemed that fourth year would be no stranger to changes, just as third year had been.

Perhaps the only difference, were that some changes were hard for people to adjust to.

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.

.

_“Okay, so then we can just meet in the library later? Does that work?_

_“Yeah, is six o’clock okay? I have a meeting with Professor Park later.”_

_“Chanyeol?”_

_“No, Leeteuk.”_

_“Ah, okay. I have notes on his last lesson though, if that’s what you need.”_

Jeno smiled softly. _“It’s actually about helping him out with something else. But thanks.”_

Jaemin returned the soft smile before twirling around and making his way back to the Slytherin table.

The remaining individuals were left to gawk at Jeno.

A moment passed. Jeno tried to go back to eating but the hammering of persistent stares against his profile became rather distracting. _“What?”_

 _“Dude,”_ Lucas finally blurted out. _“What was that?”_

 _“Yeah, you hate Jaemin,”_ Hendery tacked on. _“We ALL hate Jaemin. And Renjun and Yangyang and Haechan.”_

_“Correction, you guys hate them. And yes, I get annoyed with them too, but Professor Onew wanted me help catch Jaemin up on some work he missed. Besides, I don’t see what the big deal is. We’re in our fourth year now, can’t we just let this unspoken feud with the Slytherins drop?”_

Hendery sputtered. _“Like hell we can!”_

Mark aimed a sharp nudge into the boy’s side. _“Quieter man, the hell?”_

 _“I’m not getting along with them,”_ Hendery went on, tone only slightly closer to a normal speaking level. _“I don’t care how much they play nice. They’re probably setting up an elaborate retaliation for Mark beating Haechan in a duel at the end of last year.”_

At the mention of the other Slytherin boy, Mark chanced a glance over to the table at the far end of the great hall. Sure enough, sitting between Renjun and Jisung, was Haechan. The boy’s hair was slowly fading out its once intense, bright red color, leaving only a rosy gold tone in its place. The hue suited the young boy, and while Mark would never readily admit that the blue eyes were also fitting, he couldn’t help but notice that Haechan’s natural hazel eyes fit him just as well. He didn’t, however, feel the need to share this observation with anyone beyond himself.

The two hadn’t had many chances to encounter one another so far that year. The Gryffindors only shared History of Magic and Divination with the Slytherins. However, History of Magic wasn’t the best class for interaction, and Professor Kim Heechul of Divination was too much of an unstoppable whirlwind of energy to allow for much mingling. That, and he was the head of the Slytherin house, so said students were typically distracted by the amount of doting he gave them, whilst the Gryffindors did their best to lay low in that class.

 _“So, excuse me if I don’t trust them,”_ Hendery concluded, drawing Mark’s attention back to the conversation at hand.

Jeno sighed and focused on his food. _“No need to be so dramatic,”_ he had said. _“Besides, Mark’s been nicer to them too.”_

 _“That’s true,”_ Lucas commented, just as Mark choked out a, _“What?”_

Jeno looked at him, puzzled. _“Yeah, I mean, you and Haechan haven’t messed with each other that much and it’s already almost Halloween. Just the other day you offered him a piece of parchment because he didn’t have the right length.”_

 _“Yeah,”_ Hendery drawled, suddenly shifting his attack to Mark. _“What gives? You two hate each other more than the rest of us hate the rest of them.”_

 _“Guys leave him alone,”_ Lucas interjected. _“Mark’s probably just cocky now that he’s beaten Haechan in a duel, right? I mean, you guys are equal now, no need to fight.”_

 _“Uh, right,”_ Mark managed to squeak out, sitting up straighter in his seat, keeping his gaze locked on his plate of food. _“We’re equal now.”_

.

.

.

_“Shhh! Shut up, he’s looking!”_

_“Oh-em-gee, his friend totally just smiled at me.”_

_“God, they’re cute. Why are they so cute? Ugh, look at his hair, it’s beautiful.”_

_“Girl, Koeun, you have to ask him out.”_

_“What part of ‘shut up, he’s looking,’ do you idiots not understand?”_

A sharp _TWACK_ of a heavy textbook smacking the arms of two giggling girls promptly ended up all conversation. Though awkward as it was, Mark was slowly getting used to the uptick in attention he and his friends were receiving from girls (and some boys) of every year. Whether they were daring fifth years asking Mark to set them up with Jaehyun, or timid third years asking Mark out himself, the love confessions and endless bouts of giggles seemed endless.

Unfortunately for said admirers, Mark wasn’t interested, not in dating or playing matchmaker for his upperclassmen friends. Perhaps more unfortunate, was that he couldn’t say the same for his friends.

 _“Ladies,”_ Hendery drawled, dipping his head in a slight nod as he and Mark passed by the giddy third-year girls. While Mark gagged, Hendery’s cringe-worthy attempt at flirting seemed to work like a spell, immediately sending the girls scurrying away in a fluttery cloud of giggles, blushes, and skirts.

 _“Dude, your new obsession with romance is starting to make me sick to my stomach,”_ Mark confessed. _“Besides, I thought you had a girlfriend?”_

 _“Girlfriend?”_ Hendery cocked his head in confusion, eyes unfocused as he tried to place such a phenomenon. _“Girlfriend, girlfriend…Oh! You mean Yuki? The muggle girl from back home?”_

Mark nodded.

_“Man, that died out quick. She said she couldn’t do long distance. Honestly agree with her. I’d rather have a honey draped across my arm for the quidditch matches than pining away for someone miles away.”_

Mark rolled his eyes. _“Right. And about that, can you stop impressing girls by bringing them to quidditch practice? Yuta keeps nagging me about it, says we can’t rule out the possibility of one of the girls being a spy for the other teams.”_

Hendery heaved a sigh, draping an arm across Mark’s shoulders. _“How about, you tell Yuta that jealousy is not a good look on him. Not my fault everyone’s getting some but him, just because he chose to pine after some Ravenclaw that prefers to act as though Yuta doesn’t exist.”_

_“Leave him alone about the Winwin thing. Besides, I heard they’ve actually gotten closer since Christmas Break. I saw them studying together in the library.”_

_“Bet that’s not all they were doing—ah! Hey!”_

Hendery clenched his side from where Mark had elbowed him, sending the mouthy teen tumbling from his side. _“God, so violent, Mark!”_

_“Don’t be gross then.”_

Hendery grinned, a wide, slow grin as he re-draped himself over Mark once more, a new glint sparking in his eyes.

_“Speaking of Yuta, that reminds me. It’s the kid’s last year here at Hogwarts which means, the Gryffindor team will be needing a new captain.”_

_“Yeah, guess so,”_ Mark muttered, already dreading where this conversation was going. Hendery, having an annoyingly acute sense for when someone didn’t want to talk about something, powered on anyhow.

_“So, the role’s gotta go to you, my man.”_

_“I don’t know…”_ It wasn’t as if Mark hadn’t thought about it. He knew that Yuta had basically been grooming him for the position since Mark was added to the team. Still, he wasn’t the next oldest player. That would be Jungkook, but the beater had already hinted on numerous occasions that he had no interest in being captain.

_“What’s stopping you? Everyone on the team, nay, the entire Gryffindor house respects and admires you. Plus, it can’t exactly hurt your reputation. Hell, maybe you’ll even get a date out of it. I already hear girls swooning over you on a daily basis, not to mention the amount of cute shit girls send Yuta despite his insistence on staying loyal to Winwin.”_

_“Yeah, not interested in potentially using my position as captain to score dates,”_ Mark scoffed as the two finally strolled into their Potions class. _“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I understand the sudden obsession the rest of you have with dating.”_

While Hendery was certainly the biggest offender, Lucas had also been caught with girls on more than one occasion. Yeonjun, their other, fellow Gryffindor that typically hung out with his Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw friends, could even be seen with his arm around a girl in the Gryffindor common room. Fortunately, Jeno and Jungwoo seemed to avoid dating, though the reasons seemed to vary. Jungwoo in particular would become suddenly scarce whenever one of the guys brought a girl around, and more often than not he would rush to excuse himself when Lucas introduced them all to his Hogsmeade date. Jeno seemed to think along the same lines as Mark, thank God, and would typically, politely, turn down any love confessions that came his way.

 _“Come on, man,”_ Hendery borderline pouted as the two took their seats in the back of the class. _“You’re nice, smart, one hell of a wizard, play quidditch, and you even brought your guitar this year!”_

Ah, yes, Mark’s guitar. After years of longing for some escapism in music, Mark finally brought his guitar along to Hogwarts that year. He told others that it was something he was really passionate about and found it a great way to connect with his dad, who had taught him ever since he was a kid. The story never failed to make girls swoon, but Mark insists he isn’t trying to impress anyone. In fact, more often than not, he’d take the guitar and practice somewhere he could be alone, like the astronomy tower, room of requirement, or even early in the morning by the lake.

 _“And I don’t plan on using that to score any dates either,”_ Mark insisted as he set down his things and got out his potions textbook and began flipping to the page number needed for the lesson.

Hendery tutted and shook his head in disappointment. _“Wasted. Absolutely, wasted potential you are, Mark Lee.”_

_“No, just not obsessed with scoring dates left and right, like the rest of you.”_

Hendery took a moment to look at Mark as he mulled over his next few words carefully. _“What about that kid, Xion? I think he’s a third year…”_

_“What about him?”_

_“Well, a little birdy told me, it was Lucas by the way, that the kid thinks you’re cute. What about a date with him?”_

Mark slammed his textbook shut. _“No, Hendery. Not interested. Not in him, or the girl from yesterday, or from earlier, or even Yuta’s younger sister.”_

A stern, somehow intimidating cough rang from the front of the room. _“Mr. Huang, Mr. Lee. Would you please refrain from discussing your…escapades, until after class is over?”_

Mark flushed whilst Hendery offered forth a sheepish smile. _“Yes, Professor Kyungsoo. Sorry, sir.”_

The Ravenclaw students in the class chuckled haughtily while the Gryffindors seemed to quietly beg the two to shut up before Professor Kyungsoo started deducting house points. The peace lasted for a few moments, students diligently flipping to the correct page in their textbook. Hendery took his chance to whisper his closing statement to Mark.

_“So, no dudes? Should I tell Daniel you’re not interested?”_

Hendery’s question was immediately answered by his own, resounding yelp as Mark aimed a sturdy punch right for the boy’s hip.

_“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Huang.”_

A chorus of disgruntled lions growled. _“Dammit, Hendery!”_

_“Twenty points! Language, Mr. Wong!”_

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.

.

Christmas break at Hogwarts had come and gone faster than Mark would have liked. Though his heart was filled with never-ending longing for Hogwarts…homework was tough, and sometimes, Mark just wanted to hang out. Unfortunately, and his mother made sure to remind him of such a fact whenever he complained, schoolwork and studying were just as important at Hogwarts as hanging out and having fun was. Mark made sure to never tell her which he prioritized. Fortunately, his father, who was already fond of quidditch and only grew more obsessed with the ‘flying sport’ (his father’s own words), would typically take Mark’s side, sure his son would grow to be a world renowned quidditch star.

Mark wasn’t too sure that quidditch was his future, but he’d take the support.

His Christmas break was still enjoyable despite its seemingly short lifespan. He got a lot of gifts from friends and family and got both a new guitar and broomstick from his dad. Mark was able to enjoy playing the guitar as much as he wanted but living in a more muggle-heavy area forced him to wait to try out his new broomstick. Fortunately, his parents were set to go on a cruise with some friends of theirs.

 _“I’m still not sure I understand was a ‘cruise’ is,”_ his mother had said worriedly as she sorted through her travel paperwork. _“What kind of boat stays above water like that? And for so long?”_

Mark reassured her she’d have a great time, having heard from his dad that cruises were jam packed with activities, food, and entertainment. Still, given the timing of the cruise, Mark was unable to join and had to go through the process of using floo powder to get to the Ministry of Magic to catch an early accommodation back to Hogwarts, as he couldn’t take the Hogwarts Express given that he needed to get back to school four days earlier than everyone else. The process was rather painless, and Mark quite enjoyed seeing the inside of the Ministry for the first time, with its sleek, ebony walls and tiled floor. The ambiance of the building was intimidating, dark, and professional. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that the interior was done by a Slytherin alum.

Initially, Mark didn’t have any strong feelings one way or another over needing to go back to school early. He figured it’d be somewhat lonely, given that all his friends were still at the respective homes for the holiday break. But, having been itching to try out his new broomstick, Mark quickly got over said loneliness and spent his first full day back at Hogwarts doing laps around the quidditch pitch, the brisk winter air whipping his face and frosting his eyelashes.

Though, despite being unnecessarily fond of winter, the second day back was far too cold to be outside for very long, especially zipping through the air at inhuman speeds with only his winter quidditch uniform to protect him. In consequence, Mark found himself chased back indoors by the winter winds, holing himself up in the empty Gryffindor common room as he strung his new acoustic. Mark spent most of his second day back sleeping the day away before lounging on the common room couch, plucking away at his guitar strings, and humming along to muggle songs. He knew of some musical witches and wizards, but something about the music muggles listened to struck something deep in his soul, resonated with a part of him he didn’t know existed. Listening to their music brought him a sense of calm, memories of his dad, and a spark of passion he didn’t even realize he could feel.

Eventually, being tucked away in the Gryffindor common room became rather suffocating, so around dusk of his second day back, Mark slung his guitar over his shoulder and ventured out into the castle, hoping to find a new spot to play. Normally, Mark would tuck himself into the room of requirement, but given that he had rarely seen the castle so empty, he decided to try one of the usually more populated areas and enjoy playing in an open space where no one could crowd him. After a few laps around some common places, Mark settled for the Astronomy Tower. Initially, he wanted to play in the courtyard, but feared the intense cooler temperatures would warp the wood of his guitar. So, for the safety of his new, beloved instrument, Mark made his way up the spiraling staircase that led to the astronomy tower. He hoped no one was there at that time of day but would try to leave before the sun really set in case someone wandered up for some star gazing.

Mark made sure to hang back a little, seated on the floor of the enclosed part of the tower right before one could step out and be in the same spot as the telescope. It was the area commonly used for lessons, but, with school being on break, the room was instead a empty, cozy, and peaceful getaway spot for Mark as he carefully began plucking away at the strings, the beginning notes of _‘Ain’t No Sunshine,’_ flowing from his guitar as Mark gently began to sing the lyrics as quietly as he could.

 _‘Ain’t No Sunshine’_ was Mark’s most recent of favorite songs to try and master, having watched a video of John Mayer performing it live at a concert of his. He finally managed to get most of the chords down but struggled with keeping the right pitch for the lyrics, voice always wanting to shorten the words and keep the beat lighter than what it was.

For a while, that’s how Mark sat, slightly cold and butt starting to get sore from the stone floors as he plucked the notes away, stopping short and heaving a sigh in frustration as his voice was roughly two beats faster than the melody he played.

 _“Never would have pinned you for a Bill Withers fan,”_ a voice, sharp and sudden, words dipped in skepticism and judgement, rang from the entrance of the Astronomy Tower’s lesson room.

Mark whipped his head around, pinky catching on a string, his guitar letting out a horribly undignified groan of a non-existent note.

_“I must say, I don’t think he’d be all that impressed with what I just heard.”_

Mark hoped that he was just losing his mind, having seen plenty of muggle movies where characters started to lose their sanity when in isolation. But he had seen enough students milling about the castle in his first two days back to know that he was certainly not alone at Hogwarts. He just hadn’t expected Lee Haechan to be one of the kids roaming about.

 _“It’s…uh, it’s John Mayer, actually,”_ Mark managed to stammer out, left hand tightening around the neck of his guitar.

 _“No, John Mayer covered it,”_ Haechan corrected, breaching the threshold of the room and approaching Mark as if he were gliding, steps smooth and silent. _“You can’t cover a cover. So, you’re covering Bill Withers, which, might I add, is the superior version, and you’re ruining it.”_

Perhaps he was getting sick? A fever dream of Lee Haechan being somewhat civil and discussing muggle music, despite his pureblood status, was far more feasible than if it was truly happening. After all, fever-dream Mark was just as likely to gape and sputter incoherently while Haechan stared down at him unimpressed as the real Mark and Haechan would. It wasn’t until Haechan fell to the ground, far more gracefully than Mark would like to admit, siting in a way that had his knee touching Mark’s, but he was not directly next to him.

 _“Take it from the top,”_ Haechan demanded. _“I’ll show you what I mean.”_

On a normal day, Mark might’ve told Haechan to fuck off. With others around, Mark would’ve flushed an angry red and ignored Haechan. Somewhere, in a universe where things made sense, Mark’s heart wouldn’t have been stuttering and tripping over itself as his fingers got back into position, strumming the first note. And maybe, in that universe, there’s a Mark who would go his whole life, never hearing _the_ Lee Haechan, proud, arrogant, and so annoyingly…annoying, sing.

His voice was far more smooth and serene, and he managed to keep the pace similar to what Mark was strumming, words not rushing ahead of the melody like Mark’s had. Together, they seemed to hit a musical stride, notes and words intertwining as they should, the song spilling forth in a way that Mark never got to experience before. Haechan’s English wasn’t the best, but it was certainly better than he had expected, and having Haechan join in was nothing like when Mark would play guitar with his dad, but it worked. It worked but it was weird, and Mark really should have stopped and asked Haechan to punch him in the face because there was no way that what was happening in that moment was actually, truly happening. But it was. It was and it was weird, but it made Mark feel…full. For so long Mark found solace in music, found himself tucking away into hidden corners and deserted rooms to strum his precious instrument and escape—to a place where there was nothing but music. No magic, no quidditch, no people breathing down his neck and praising him to the point where it got suffocating. For so long Mark both loved and hated that music was something he kept private. He hated the idea of having people hear it and turn it into something, a future career, a way to pick up girls, anything. But he longed to share it all the same. He wanted to play with someone, for someone, wanted to see what his music did to people, wanted to know if they felt the same things in that moment that he did.

That day, up in the astronomy tower, butt cold and unfeeling against the stone floor, fingertips calloused and cramping, neck stiff and aching. That day, Mark felt something inside of him simultaneously break and fill.

And for once, with his eyes heavy-lidded, gaze focused yet somehow not, moles on his cheek making up for the lack of stars in the sky, Haechan looked…

He looked…

_“See? That’s how you do it.”_

Mark’s strumming had slowly come to a stop a few moments after Haechan had sung the last word.

_“And just why is a pureblood like yourself so into muggle music?”_

Haechan huffed. _“What, us purebloods aren’t allowed to enjoy the work of muggles? Please, give me a break. Like I’m going to miss out on the perfection of Bill Withers or Michael Jackson just because they can’t do magic. Give me a break, Lee.”_

He tried to stifle the sudden burst of laughter that escaped him, but it was no use.

 _“Sorry,”_ Mark apologized when he caught himself. _“I just…I don’t know, not many of my friends really know a lot about muggle music. Well, Lucas does since he’s a muggle born too, but he’s not into the same music as I am.”_

_“He probably is, you just think all the people doing the covers are the original songwriters. I mean seriously, John Mayer writing ‘Ain’t no Sunshine?’ Yeah, next you’ll tell me Michael Bublé wrote ‘Fly Me to The Moon.’”_

_“Sinatra, too? Are you one of those people that only listen to the ‘classics?’ What, groups like SHINee too mainstream for you?”_

_“Hey, don’t you dare treat SHINee like that! They are innovative and are doing something entirely unique and different! Oh, did you know they’re all wizards, too? So, hardly muggle music.”_

_“Wait, for real?”_

Haechan nodded, oddly smug. _“Yup, both Key and Taemin were Slytherins too.”_ Haechan paused to roll his eyes. _“Minho was a Gryffindor, of course. Have to be with all that bravado and cockiness.”_

 _“Yo, what?”_ Mark ignored the indirect insult. _“Minho was a Gryffindor? Hell yeah! I knew he was an awesome dude!”_

For a moment, Haechan just looked at him, a clear picture of puzzlement embodied over his face, but there was something else lingering in his eyes. A sort of gleam that looked just as confused as Mark felt, for the Gryffindor also took a moment to stare at the boy before him. Haechan’s hair was still that rose gold color, from root to tip, and Mark wondered if the boy was purposely keeping it that color rather than letting it fade away from its once red color back to brown. He kept his eyes his natural, hazel color, but in the slowly dimming light of the astronomy tower, they looked darker than usual.

Haechan broke his stare first, blinking away, the tips of his ears flushing as he waved an impatient hand at Mark. _“Well, go on then!”_

Mark froze for a second. _“Uh…huh?”_

_“Play another song, idiot. Come on, play a piece by SHINee or something…”_

A small part of Mark wanted to say ‘no,’ maybe tell Haechan to finally fuck off so he could go back to playing his guitar in peace, alone like he usually was. Instead, his fingers found their way to a starting position on his guitar, strumming out the first few chords of an acoustic version of SHINee’s _‘Juliette.’_

Haechan smirked. _“Typical.”_

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Mark didn’t go back to the astronomy tower the next day. As the evening had dwindled away and seeped into night, he and Haechan were ripped away from their song covers by the sound of Eunhyuk, Hogwarts’ caretaker humming as he ascended the stairs to the astronomy tower. Haechan and Mark were only given a brief moment to react before the dove behind the closest desk, waiting as Eunhyuk did a quick sweep of the room before disappearing.

There wasn’t really a need to hide. Rules were far less stringent when the school was on holiday, and Eunhyuk was notorious for being pretty lenient, especially towards Gryffindors. Mark didn’t ask, but he’s sure Haechan hid for the same reasons he did: to not be seen together. Once they were sure Eunhyuk was gone, Haechan had only caught Mark’s eye for a brief moment before leaping out from his hiding space and tearing out of the tower room, gone before Mark could even creep out from behind the desk himself.

That night, Mark laid in bed, mulling over the evening in his mind, thoughts making no sense like words clattering forth from a broken typewriter.

_He had a nice voice._

_He’s still an asshole._

_I can’t believe he knows SHINee._

_Where does he get off criticizing my music?_

_I wonder if he’d want to sing a Sinatra song next time…_

Mark squashed that thought straight away. He would only have two days left at Hogwarts before his friends came back and things would go back to normal. He and Haechan would spit and curse at each other in the halls, sending subtle hexes and spells each other’s way. Their friends would fight too, and their age-old rivalry would live on.

So, Mark would not go back to that tower.

He didn’t.

In fact, he didn’t even touch his guitar that day, and instead opted for a cozy day of writing in the Gryffindor common room, only ducking out briefly to grab lunch, packing extra food away under his sweatshirt so he could enjoy dinner in his room. He ate lunch fast that day, eyes darting around. He nearly broke into a sprint when he caught a flash of Wendy’s, an older Gryffindor student, rose gold hair before he realized it was her. Still, he made sure to hurry along after that, taking the quickest route back to his room.

Mark swears he didn’t even think about going to the astronomy tower.

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The final day of winter break rolled in with a light flurry of snow. Though no newcomers had entered the castle yet, the grounds seemed to buzz in anticipation for the students that would come spilling back in the next morning. Mark woke up slowly, in stages of sluggish realization that his break was coming to an end. He overslept that day, missing breakfast and only managing to roll out of his bed at nearly one o’clock in the afternoon.

For a while, Mark didn’t even leave the common room, opting to lay around on the couch instead, flipping through some of his Christmas gifts and polishing his new broom stick so it’d be in perfect condition for their next game, which was set to take place a week after everyone got back from break. He already knew Yuta was about to make the entire team his slaves the moment he set foot on Hogwarts grounds, so Mark made sure to appreciate the finer things like sleeping in and lazing around until his captain got back.

He milled about for a good while, writing up some thank you letters to his relatives for the Christmas gifts he received. His owl, Hayan, nearly nipped his finger off in his first attempt to tie one of the notes to the her leg. Hayan had already expressed her distaste of the cold weather, glowering in a way that was almost comical out the winter before she fluttered back to the owlery. Mark sighed and decided he’d just ask to borrow Jeno’s when his friend came back.

Mark then passed some more time playing against a younger Gryffindor, Taehyun, in a game of chess, defeating the boy so easily that he almost felt bad, especially since he wasn’t exactly a chess master himself. Eventually, his milling about brought him to dinner time, and he was finally able to meander down to the Great Hall, doing an admirable job at pretending like his nerves were skipping over one another as he tried to make himself small and unnoticeable at the table.

 _Why am I even hiding?_ He wondered to himself as he chanced a glance at the table at the other end of the room, comprised only of students with natural hair colors. After confirming that Wendy’s head was the only one decorated in pink strands, Mark sat up straighter and attempted to enjoy his meal without chancing too many glances at the entrance to the Great Hall. It seemed silly, when he looked back on the situation years later, eating his dinner in stiff motions, eyes darting around as if he were being watched. If anyone had been paying close attention, they’d assume the young Gryffindor was expecting someone to come out and assassinate him. His movements were stiff and unnatural in Mark’s desperation to appear relaxed and unbothered.

 _Just chill out,_ he attempted to reassure himself as he tried fruitlessly to relax his shoulders. _Everyone will be back tomorrow. Jeno, Jungwoo, Lucas, Hendery…They’ll be back, and you’ll hang out with them and everything will go back to how it was. You’re just being weird because this empty castle is getting to you._

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Taehyun was a rather unassuming Gryffindor. He kept to himself, hung out with his friends, and looked forward to trying out for the Gryffindor seeker position that was set to open at the end of that year. He never bothered anyone and managed to be civil towards the Slytherins (despite the demon duo, Chenle and Jisung, pelting the back of his head with crumpled pieces of parchment). He did his homework on time (most of the time), was quiet in class (again, most of the time), and was respectful to his seniors (…most of them). He was courageous and stuck to his morals, like a true Gryffindor, and, like everyone else in the house, admired and respected Mark Lee, quidditch master, skilled wizard, and one of the truest friends one could hope to have at Hogwarts.

Taehyun, like many other students, found himself watching Mark often. Whether it was just catching sight of the boy with his friends, cheering him on in a quidditch match, or watching in awe as yet _another_ girl attempted to confess her love for the dark-haired Gryffindor. Taehyun felt for those girls, he really did. It must be hard working up the courage to approach your crush, and then try to appear unaffected as he shoots you down (for some, multiple times in a row). He also couldn’t blame the girls for their crush on the guy. He’s even caught himself swooning whenever Mark pulls off a particularly skillful move in quidditch, and just about tripped over himself when he spotted Mark lazily strumming on his guitar in the Gryffindor common room just a few days prior. The guy was a catch.

Taehyun wondered, though, if girls could see what he was seeing in that moment, whether or not they’d feel the same way for Mark.

 _“Hey, uh, Mark?”_ he attempted to call to the Gryffindor that was currently pacing in front of the common room exit, a mere two hours before curfew, guitar slung over his shoulder, looking rather frazzled. _“You okay, man?”_

Mark didn’t seem to even register that Taehyun was a few feet away from him, calling his name. In fact, the poor guy was mumbling to himself, inaudible even in the deserted common room. Taehyun only caught a few words like ‘caught,’ ‘stupid,’ and ‘SHINee.’

 _Isn’t that a boy band?_ Taehyun wondered to himself. Tentatively, Taehyun reached his hand out and grasped Mark’s upper arm, startling the poor guy. _“Mark,”_ he tried again. _“Man, are you okay?”_

Mark stared at him for a moment, an odd look in his eye, as if he were trying to remember Taehyun’s name or figure out if the boy was even real. After an awkward lull of silence, Mark shook his head, successfully snapping himself out of his strange stupor.

_“Uh…yeah! Yes, fine. Um, listen, I’m heading out. Uh, just, for a little bit. Not for long. Okay. So. Yeah. Bye.”_

And just like that Mark tore from the common room, hand only just barely managing to protect the neck of his guitar as he shot through the doorway. Taehyun was left standing in his pajamas, hand flopping back down to his side, attempting to wrap his head around what had happened.

 _“Man,”_ he muttered as he turned and trudged up to bed. _“It’s always the mysterious guys that get all the girls.”_

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.

If Hendery were there, he’d never let Mark live it down. Lucas would probably rush him to the infirmary wing, probably ask that Mark’s brain get checked. Jeno and Jungwoo would be fine…right? After all, they were the two best at getting along with the Slytherins. Hell, Mark had even seen them both talk to Haechan before, and they never seemed to have issues with him.

Mark shook his head as he quickened his pace. Haechan. Haechan didn’t even matter. Mark was just going to play in the astronomy tower because it was private.

 _I could’ve gone to the room of requirement…_ No, too obvious of a hiding place. If he went there…well technically someone would have to think of the exact same setting to get in but still.

_An empty classroom? Professor Chanyeol’s office? He likes me…_

The options were endless, really.

Mark’s hand pushed open the door to the room in the astronomy tower.

Empty.

Mark’s stomach did a weird twist and his heartbeat slowed. He swallowed past the harsh lump in his throat, shifting his guitar around to his front as he took his seat on the floor again, same spot he had forty-eight hours ago.

As he settled into his spot, his fingers strummed aimlessly against the guitar strings a few times. He couldn’t help the lackluster chuckle that came out of his mouth like little puffs, weak and mocking in the cool air. He shook his head. _“Stupid.”_

_“John Mayer? Yes, he is. Glad you’ve come to your senses.”_

Mark whipped his head up, eyes struggling to make out Haechan’s figure in the dim light. He didn’t realize that he had come to the astronomy tower so early last time, the last gleams of sunset basking the room in a soft, yellow glow. With the sunlight having kissed the sky goodbye just twenty minutes ago, the only thing left to brighten the room was the full moon’s borrowed light, casting a soft, bluish hue in the room. Still, Haechan was easy to distinguish, even in the dark, his hair still rosy, the constellation on his cheek matching the speckled sky. He was dressed comfortably, like Mark, and he appeared almost…nervous, as he stood in the doorway, twisting his sleeve-covered hands in front of himself.

Laughter burst from Mark once again, fuller, surprised.

_“If you’re here to mock one of my favorite artists, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave. You’re crushing my vibe.”_

Haechan smiled, soft, a little shy, like a child’s grin when timidly asking if they could sit next to a potential friend at lunch. He took a few steps forward, body language stifled, shoulders curled inwards, but his eyes gleamed sharp, just like a snake’s, never fully letting his guard down.

_“But you’re in my spot. Can’t you see it’s a full moon?”_

_“Oh?”_ Mark asked, eyes locked on Haechan as the Slytherin eased himself down to the floor, back against the wall _next_ to Mark, rather than off to the side like he had been last time. _“Is this room yours on the night of a full moon?”_

_“Yes. I’m a werewolf. I need someplace to hide away, or I’ll hurt someone.”_

Mark smiled. _“Then I guess I should run, wouldn’t want to be maimed to death by a werewolf that somehow convinced the school to let him stay in the castle on nights he changes into a deadly beast.”_

Haechan giggled, and Mark realized he never had heard the boy laugh before. It was boyish, uninhibited. In fact, it was borderline dorky, and to see the great, proud Slytherin prince chuckle like a schoolboy hearing a dirty joke it was…Mark had never felt like he was stuck in a dream so strongly before.

_“I should also point out, that you’ve been in the presence of the full moon for at least a solid two minutes now and I don’t see a speck of fur sprouting from your hands.”_

_“It starts on my butt,”_ Haechan countered proudly, shoulders relaxing but hands still buried in the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes peering up at Mark’s, a cheeky grin spread over his features. Mark laughed at that.

_“Your butt?”_

Haechan nodded. _“Mmm. But look, my teeth are getting sharper. See?”_

With two fingers, Haechan reached up and pulled his cheeks apart, confidently showing Mark his two rows of teeth. Mark nodded and let out an unconvinced hum.

_“Scary. Well, still, you seem to be transforming rather slowly. Maybe a song will make time go by? Maybe some John Mayer?”_

Haechan gagged, his fingers slipped from his cheeks. _“Ugh, no. Surprise me. Just…not with John Mayer.”_

The first few chords rang out into the room, Mark refused to sing any of the song, eyes locked on Haechan, wondering just how much muggle music he really knew. He watched the boy concentrate, gaze fixed on Mark’s hands, as if the position of his fingers as they formed new notes would help him identify the song. For a minute, Mark thought Haechan wouldn’t get it, until, at last, Haechan smirked.

_“Purpose. Justin Bieber. You, Mark Lee, are a bit of a cliché.”_

Mark raised his eyebrows challengingly. _“Do you know it or not.”_

Haechan locked his gaze back and began to sing.

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_“Alright, I’m heading out.”_

_“Again, with this?”_

_“Yeah, Mark, what gives? You’ve been heading out to play guitar a lot more often lately. You know you can just play here in the common room, we won’t bother you if that’s what your deal is,”_ Hendery assured, breaking his attention away from his game of chess with Jeno to peer at the Gryffindor that was set to leave the common room, nearly three hours before curfew, for the third time that week.

His friends had a right to be concerned. Mark wasn’t exactly a completely, non-rule breaking student, but his constant heading out to play guitar so late in the evening was a little too out of character.

Mark’s new ritual of going out began roughly four days after everyone came back from their Christmas vacations. Mark appreciated their long-awaited returns and was more than happy to spend the next few days catching up and swapping stories and sharing their gifts. But Mark also couldn’t help but glance up every evening during dinner, eyes almost always locking with the rosy-haired Slytherin three tables away.

It became an unspoken routine between the two of them, meeting up on random nights throughout the week to play music together. Haechan even managed to smuggle in his smartphone, a muggle luxury that the wizarding world had found themselves indulging in but were banned from using at Hogwarts.

_“How’d you get that in here? No, scratch that, why does a pureblood like yourself even have one of those?”_

Haechan had merely shrugged, thumb scrolling through lists of songs that Mark was sure had at least forty-hours’ worth of music on them. _“My cousin Ten got it for me a few years back. How else did you think I got into all these artists?”_

Somehow, the two of them also seemed to silently work out a system for when they would meet up. Between class schedules, Mark’s quidditch practice, and Haechan’s…well, whatever it was that kept Haechan busy some nights, the two weren’t always available at the same times. They seemed to agree on the unspoken arrangement that whenever their eyes met at dinner, it meant they would go to the astronomy tower that night. Mark tried to ignore the odd twist in his chest on the days when he’d look up, only for Haechan’s eyes never to lock with his, or the weird sinking in his gut when he felt a sharp gaze on the side of his face, but forced his eyes downwards or towards his friends because he was busy and couldn’t meet up.

The amount of times the two could meet up ranged everywhere from four times a week to not at all for ten days straight. It seemed, however, that despite large gaps of Mark staying in, he was apparently leaving often enough for his friends to notice and speak up on the matter.

 _“I’ve been getting a lot of inspiration lately,”_ Mark offered, words weak and unconvincing even to his own ears. _“Sorry, you guys know I don’t like to play with so many people around. It can be…distracting.”_

He chanced a glance at a table of girls in the corner who were studying but were managing to multitask by giggling and trying to catch Mark’s eye.

 _“Let him go, guys,”_ Jeno spoke up as he moved his rook who in turn smashed Hendery’s knight.

_“Aw, dammit!”_

_“We all know that Yuta’s been riding us pretty hard lately, and professors seem to think that we need to buckle down more than ever if we want to be ready to take our O.W.L’s next year,”_ Jeno remarked, ignoring Hendery’s complaining.

Mark shot his friend a smile and bolted out the door. He wasn’t sure if Jeno was also curious, but he knew his friend well enough to know he’d never rag on him about it.

 _I wonder if I should tell him,_ Mark pondered as he scurried off to the tower. _After all, he gets along with Jaemin fairly well…_

By the time Mark reached the tower that night, Haechan was already there, standing in front of the glass doors that led to the outer viewing balcony of the tower. He turned at the sound of the heavy wooden door creaking open, lips twitching into a smile when he saw Mark. Slowly, steps as light at the faint, half-sliver on moonlight that crept along the glass of the windows, Haechan approached him. He came to stand in front of Mark, hand pulling out his smart phone, small fingers gingerly holding the device as he began to eagerly explain to Mark a whole new playlist, he curated of songs _perfect_ for duets, and Mark smiled.

He’d hold off on telling Jeno for the time being.

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_“Okay…let’s go over this one more time, because I really want to make sure we’re on the same page here…”_

Winter had finally started to ease up as the Hogwarts grounds made itself ready for spring. Early March brought a series of ranging temperatures, rainy days, and restlessness as students longed for nice weather. Unfortunately, while others were able to hide indoors on days that winter persisted, frosting the edges of dorm windows and urging early risers to don a scarf, the quidditch players were forced to rise earlier and earlier as the quidditch season began to hit its peak.

 _“Yuta, dude, I think we’ve got it,”_ Lucas had dared to counter. _“We’ve run through our plays like…seven times just today! Besides, we’re going against the Hufflepuff team, and their points are the lowest right now.”_

Yuta looked at the tall beater, a near feral look entering his eye. _“Lowest points…lowest points? It’s cockiness like that that’ll get us beat! We need to beat the Slytherins, who, might I add, are only trailing us by fifty points. Going against the Hufflepuffs is a great opportunity to extend the margin between us and them! Which, reminds me, Jungkook, aim for Joy at today’s game.”_

_“Dude she’s a chick…”_

_“I will not show mercy just because you want to appear chivalrous!”_

Jeno bumped Mark’s arm from where he stood by the chaser, towards the back of the group of players, attempting to avoid eye contact with the frothing quidditch captain. _“Think he’s getting a little too worked up?”_

Mark shrugged. _“Can’t blame him,”_ he said, watching as Yuta snatched away Lucas’ bat and demonstrated (despite not being a beater) the best way to hit the bludger so that it’d send someone’s broom careening to the ground. _“Though I’m anticipating a lot of fouls.”_

_“Alright, everyone take a few laps, practice your balance techniques. Mark, come here for a second.”_

Jeno offered the chaser a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he trudged off to the pitch with a grumbling Lucas. Mark approached Yuta, weary, and wondering in the back of his head if Yuta was planning on shooting bludgers at Mark to test his reflexes.

_“Listen, Mark, I know I’m probably coming on a little strong. It’s just…you know this is my last year here at Hogwarts, I’ve been captain of the Gryffindor team since I was in my fourth year. To end my final season as the Gryffindor captain I want…It’d mean a lot to me if we could win the championship.”_

Mark nodded. He understood where Yuta was coming from, felt in his own heart the pang of sadness at the fact that Yuta would be graduating at the end of the year. Mark was sure he’d go on to be an incredible, professional quidditch player. But, his heart would long for his hyung, and he hoped they could still talk despite the distance that would arise between them.

_“And Mark, I really hope you’ve been seriously considering my offer. I’ll pick someone else if I have to, but I really want you to be the next quidditch captain.”_

Ah, yes, the big question. Mark was expected to take over the role as captain the next year, backed by everyone in the entire Gryffindor house. He had practically begged Jungkook to take the position, but the older beater had insisted that he wanted to focus on his goal of becoming an auror and taking on quidditch responsibilities would get in the way of that. Mark would have liked to argue that he, too, wanted to focus on the varying passions and interests that bounced around his head. He wasn’t sure whether it was a muggle trait of his that he picked up or what, but Mark had a horribly inconvenient inability to say ‘no.’

 _I don’t even know why you’re asking,_ Mark thought to himself as Yuta patted his shoulder before taking off into the air himself. _My answer was always going to be ‘yes.’_

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_“Captain? Really? Why is Yuta-hyung asking you? I thought the head of the Gryffindor house was supposed to appoint the new captain.”_

Mark couldn’t hold back the tiny smile that touched his lips when he heard Haechan refer to Yuta as ‘hyung.’ There was something cute about hearing the honorific coming from the prideful Slytherin’s mouth.

_“Technically, yes, Professor Chanyeol is supposed to pick. But I already know Yuta’s been hounding him about me since…well before Yuta even told me he wanted me to be the next captain. Besides, Professor Chanyeol has already talked to me about, said he’d choose me if I wanted it.”_

Haechan rolled his eyes, fingers scrolling through his list of songs. _“Shocker. Head of the Gryffindor house is going to pick his favorite student to be the next quidditch captain. As if we all didn’t see it coming.”_

 _“I’m not his favorite!”_ Mark protested. _“He’s just…I’m….”_

_“You’re…? Please, Mark, everyone can see you’re his favorite, practically his little protégé.”_

_“What about you? I know professor Heechul loves you.”_

_“Of course, he does, all the professors love me.”_

_“Oh? I heard Professor Chanyeol took twenty points from you last week.”_

_“That was Yangyang’s fault!”_

Mark laughed, full and loud in the empty astronomy tower. It felt nice to share his issues with Haechan, even if the boy didn’t know much about quidditch. But, Jeno was sometimes too understanding or reasonable, always calm and collected, making Mark envy him more than listen to him. As for his other friends, they usually took the stance of pushing Mark to pick up whatever opportunity came his way, be it as the new quidditch captain or agreeing to a date with a girl. Half the time, they seemed to want to push Mark into doing things rather than taking the time to understand why he was so hesitant.

_“So, the match is next week, right? I’m surprised you had time to come here tonight.”_

_“I wanted to be here,”_ Mark answered, softly, truthfully, eyes locked on Haechan as the boy looked down as pink flooded his cheeks. _Look at me,_ he thought to himself wistfully. _What kind of expression are you making right now?_

 _“Besides,”_ Mark continued, nudging Haechan’s knee with his. _“Yuta had us out on the pitch from five in the morning up to breakfast time. It took Lucas threatening that he’d claim it was like we were slaves before Yuta finally let us go.”_

Haechan giggled, eyes meeting Mark’s once more, the pink in his cheeks still there, but gone was whatever look darted into his eye before he had ducked down shyly.

 _“Will you come?”_ The words shot out of Mark’s mouth before he even realized they had formulated in his head. Haechan startled.

_“Huh?”_

_“To the game next week, will you come?”_

Dark brown eyes met hazel, Mark’s grip on the neck of his guitar tightened, digging the wire strings into the pads of his fingers. For a moment, the tower was eerily silent, the flames in the wall lanterns blinking in interest, wind ceasing its occasional knocking on the glass windows. Mark’s not even sure that, if he tried, he’d even be able to pay attention to any other sounds. Distantly, in the far recesses of his brain, he hoped no one came in. Not Eunhyuk, not other students looking for a hiding spot, not even a stray rat. No one. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Haechan, watching as the boy processed the question, likely mulling over his response (if he had even processed what Mark just asked).

_“I’m…Quidditch isn’t really my thing.”_

An odd weight sunk Mark’s shoulders.

 _“But,”_ Haechan’s words were soft, too delicate for such a strong, dangerous predator like him. _“I think Yangyang wants to go…Chenle and Jisung too. And Jaemin will never admit it, but I think he likes to see…uh, I think he likes to watch too.”_

Mark’s chest pounded, the stars in the sky seemed to tease him from above, because the room seemed a little brighter in that moment.

_“Then I’ll see you there. I’d say don’t try to ditch because I’d be able to see if you didn’t come, but honestly I think Yuta will kill me if my attention is on anything but the match.”_

_“Well then,”_ the Slytherin cheekily pressed the play button on his phone, sending forth an intense, familiar beat as _‘Eye of the Tiger’_ began to play in the empty room. _“Guess we should get you hyped for the big game.”_

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Haechan came. He came and he was the first and last thing Mark latched his eyes onto for the match that day.

The day had started off rough, the whole team confident that they’d win, but shaky from adrenaline and knowing that if they won, they’d only need to take on the Ravenclaws before being sent to the final match.

Yuta had gathered them around, insisted on giving a rather moving speech, before the team huddled together for a quick cheer, offering encouraging pats on each other’s backs as they marched out to the field.

The stands were filled with students, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff houses cheering loudly for their respectful teams. The Slytherins made it a point to cheer for the Hufflepuffs. The Ravenclaw students didn’t appear to care, but Yuta made sure to remind the team that they were probably going to be keeping a close eye on their moves, given they’d have to play the Gryffindor team next.

Together, the teams shot up into the sky, doing a few warmup laps around the pitch. Mark discreetly flew in close proximity to where the Slytherins sat, not fully turning his head, but catching a head of rosy hair and tanned skin out of the corner of his eye. He intended to turn his head, maybe send the boy a smile, but wondered if that would be too weird, if Haechan would prefer it if Mark didn’t act like he was there at all. Instead, he flew into position with the rest of his teammates, where the referee, Kai, was positioned to start the game.

 _“I want a good, clean, fair match,”_ Kai announced. _“We’re halfway into the season so you all know the rules by now. So, let the match, begin!”_

With a sharp blow of his whistle, Kai started to match, and the game began.

The game was not without fouls, without injuries, or close calls. Yuta screamed, Mark had to dodge a bludger about every twenty seconds, and Jeno was nearly sent careening off his broomstick when he narrowly avoided the intense race between the two seekers on their quest to capture the snitch, only for the winged sphere to dart out of sight when the Hufflepuff seeker was almost in reach.

In the end, the Hufflepuffs got the snitch, but the Gryffindor team managed to win with a eighty-point lead thanks to the chasers scoring more points that game than they had all season. Mark cheered with his team from the air, neck whipping to the side to catch Haechan’s eye, easy to spot, as the only smile, small and unsure, in a cluster of disgruntled Slytherins.

Boldly, in a way that could only be done by Haechan himself, the young wizard looked Mark directly in the eye and mouthed: _Tonight._

Mark sent back a subtle nod, thinking the word over in his head again and again, hands still clapping in celebration with his team.

_Tonight._

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_“You’re pretty good. Gotta be careful, though. You only just barely missed that last bludger.”_

_“Who knew you would be so worried over the safety of a Gryffindor.”_

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_“What is up with Mark lately?”_

_“I don’t know, Yuta’s going to be pissed if he forgets about our meeting tonight.”_

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_“You think I’d be a seeker? Really?”_

A laugh, soft, almost as gentle as the delicate flowers that were finally appearing for spring.

_“Why? You really think you have the muscles to be a beater.”_

A playful shove. _“Shut up! As if your stick-thin arms are much better.”_

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_“Mark, man, have you heard anything I just said?”_

_“What? OH, yeah, man! Sorry, Lucas, no I heard you. You’re going to start tutoring. Look, sorry I gotta go.”_

_“No—dammit, Mark! I said I need tutoring! Mark, get back here!”_

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The sun was setting later and later, still visible on the horizon as the hours hastily approached the later point of the day. A gentle hand tugged his, out through the glass doors, onto the balcony.

_“So, you’ve never bothered to check?”_

Mark let himself be pulled, hand burning in the palm of the sun’s, chest too full, full, and nearly crushing. But he felt light. Light and full and confused but excited.

_“You’re not curious?”_

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_“What’s going on with you lately? You’re so chipper.”_

_“Am I usually moody?”_

_“No, no. It’s just…I don’t know, you seem relaxed, less of a stick-in-the-mud.”_

_“Mark’s always been chill, you just annoy the crap out of him, Hendery.”_

_“Fuck off, Jeno.”_

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_“I’m a Gemini.”_

_“Sounds about right.”_

Arms came down, bracing the taller body over the smaller, hands pressed against the stone windowsill.

_“Never a dull moment with you.”_

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_“So, what’ll it be? I’ll beg if I have to, you know I will.”_

Mark chuckled. Soft, easy-going. _“You don’t have to beg, Hyung.”_

_“So, you’ll do it? You’ll be the new quidditch captain next year?”_

A nod, a scream of excitement. Mark’s body was brought into a bone-crushing hug, pure joy falling from his lips as Yuta swung him in the air.

_“You’re the best, Mark Lee!”_

Mark hugged him back tighter, burying the tears in Yuta’s shoulder. _“Thank you, Hyung. You were the best captain and friend a guy could ask for.”_

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_“Let me guess, you’re the type to put stock in blood types, aren’t you?”_

A shrug. _“Type A is the best. Who am I to argue?”_

_“Guess I win again. I’m AB. Much more interesting than an A type Leo.”_

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_“I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”_

Her hair was long, shiny, and thick, wide eyes glistening with nervousness. Her lips were curled into a tiny, pink smile, hands clasped around her textbooks gingerly. It was quite a sight, something out of an animation or perhaps one of Hendery’s wet dreams. She was a Ravenclaw, one year older, only recently single after breaking up with her long-distance boyfriend. Rumor was he went to Durmstrang, something about him being tall, muscular, a man’s man that ladies tripped over themselves for. Mark could almost feel the burning gaze of his friends as they watched on with a mixture of envy and amazement.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ never one to fail in annoying his friends. _“I can’t go this weekend. I’m…sorry, but I’m not really interested.”_

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_“You changed your hair back to brown.”_

The strands were soft, oddly smooth and silky in Mark’s fingers, digits tentatively carding through the chocolate locks.

_“Don’t get too attached. I’m thinking of doing something new and exciting next year. But I suppose it’ll stay brown for the rest of the school year.”_

_“A whole three weeks? Not sure you can handle not doing anything to your hair for that long.”_

A gentle puff, a soft laugh as his body swung right back into his arms. _“Shut up.”_

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_“And just like that, Gryffindor wins the Quidditch House Cup!”_

A deafening roar of cheers echoed all across Hogwarts’ grounds.

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_“It’s almost funny. You’re like a poster child for the house. A Leo, star quidditch player, everyone loves you.”_

_“That last part sounded sarcastic…”_

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_“I swear to god I’m going to hit him.”_

_“Leave him alone!”_

_“Not until he listens. Mark! Mark, bro, are you deaf or is your astronomy textbook just that fascinating?”_

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_“And what about us? A Gemini and Leo. Are we compatible?”_

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_“Mark, congratulations on becoming the next quidditch captain.”_

_“Aren’t you technically supposed to ask me, Professor Chanyeol?”_

_“Oh…oh, that’s right. Uhm, well, will you?”_

Mark laughed. _“I already told Yuta yes a while back. Can’t go back on my word now.”_

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Hands reached up, carding into jet black hair. Outside the moon and stars watched quietly, respectfully. The warm, spring night held its breath.

_“And what if I told you no?”_

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_“Another ten points to Gryffindor! Excellent answer, Mark! Now, can anyone tell me the difference between a pixie that has been raised in captivity, and…”_

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_“What if I told you our blood types didn’t go together at all?”_

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_“Mark, hey you know I’m your best friend, right? So, whatever is going on in your life is your business. But I think your oddly bright personality lately is starting to freak Hendery and Lucas out. I think even Jungwoo is a bit worried.”_

Mark could only laugh.

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_“The stars then? I asked about Gemini’s and Leo’s.”_

The words were whispered, a mere hair’s width away from plush, pink petals.

It was quiet.

_“What if we weren’t?”_

Somewhere outside, the late spring flowers shifted to the side, making way for summer blooms.

_“Would you defy the stars for me, Mark Lee?”_

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_“And the house cup goes to the Gryffindors! Congratulations on your fourth year in a row!”_

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Plush pink fell upon thin lips curled into a smile. Arms tightened around waist and neck. The earth kept spinning, the minutes ticked by, the universe moved along.

But in that moment, life in the astronomy tower stood still.

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_Fifth Year_

_“So, you get to use the prefect’s bathroom too? What the hell, you and Jeno get all the good stuff!”_

Mark and his friends were a mere forty minutes into the day-long train ride that would take them back to Hogwarts for their fifth year, and Lucas had managed to take up roughly half that amount of time, complaining over the ‘unfairness’ of Jeno and Mark’s new luxuries.

Jeno, who was sent a badge and made aware of his new duties in the summer, was one of the new Gryffindor prefects alongside Yeri. Together, the two of them were to patrol the Hogwarts Express corridors, attend prefect meetings, make sure students didn’t break curfew, and were even allowed to deduct points or give detention as punishment. As for Mark, with Yuta having graduated the year previously, he had been bumped up to be Gryffindor’s new quidditch captain, a role that didn’t come with too many perks, but he was able to indulge in the rather grand, overwhelmingly fancy bathroom on the fifth floor that was open only to quidditch captains, prefects, and the head boy/girl.

Lucas, however, seemed to think he was privy to the same treatment.

_“I’m just saying, I worked my butt off as beater, nearly took Yangyang’s head off in the final quidditch match last year. Honestly, I think us quidditch players should get a little more.”_

Hendery rolled his eyes and threw an earwax flavored jellybean at Lucas. _“Oh, shut it, would you? You’re just mad that Jeno got picked instead of you, which, might I add, would not happen in a million years.”_

Jungwoo and Mark snickered, watching as Lucas floundered to defend himself.

_“Oh yeah? Well, why didn’t Mark get picked?”_

_“Do you have an issue with me being prefect?”_ Jeno finally asked, pinning Lucas a glare.

_“I’m just saying it’s a pretty good situation prefects got. I mean you can literally TAKE house points! Do you know how many house points I would take away from those damn Slytherins if given the chance?”_

_“And that’s why you weren’t picked,”_ Jeno said with finality, shuffling through his stack of cards from their devoured chocolate frogs. _“Anyone got a Yixing? I’ve got like four Changmin’s I’m willing to trade.”_

 _“And I don’t think you’re a bad choice,”_ Lucas droned on, _“I just think Mark would actually take away some points from the Slytherins.”_

 _“Oh, he’s got a point there,”_ Hendery hummed, eyeing Mark up and down. _“If anyone’s got good reason to deduct points from those snakes, it’s you, Marky-poo.”_

Mark rolled his eyes, stretching out a leg that he managed to hit both Lucas and Hendery with, answering over their groans of pain: _“Which is exactly why I wouldn’t get picked, honestly. I don’t think it’s a good idea for quidditch captains to also have control over house points, too much opportunity for sabotage.”_

 _“But you wouldn’t do that, Mark,”_ Jungwoo pointed out. _“You’re too fair. Plus, the only Slytherin you really hate enough to do that to is Haechan, and he doesn’t even play quidditch.”_

Mark choked, snatching up a water bottle to try and flush the jellybeans lodged in his throat as his friends murmured their agreement.

 _“Exactly,”_ Hendery agreed emphatically. _“Come on, man, you gotta admit it’d be pretty satisfying to give Haechan detention.”_

Mark rubbed his forehead in mock irritation, hoping to conceal the blush that flooded his face because _no brain, we’re not going there with weird fantasies regarding the words ‘satisfying’ and ‘Haechan detention.’_

 _“Look,”_ Mark began, attempting to quell his own thoughts of the petite Slytherin in his head. _“I would never abuse my power as a prefect just to get back at people you guys have beef with.”_

 _“You have beef with them too,”_ Hendery muttered, crossing his arms petulantly.

 _“And I wouldn’t risk getting in serious trouble by trying anything sketchy,”_ Mark finished. Being in his fifth year at last, captain of the quidditch team and yearning to enjoy a year of peace and quiet, Mark wanted to put his foot down straight away regarding the on-going tension between his friends and the Slytherins. He knew total amicability was a lot to ask for, but not engaging in the bantering was enough of a good start in his books.

 _“You’ll at least be on our side if things do come up, right?”_ Lucas asked, biting into a chocolate frog. _“Prefect or not, you know how those guys get.”_

 _“Of course he’ll protect us!”_ Jungwoo burst out, voice quietly passionate. _“Mark will always have our back. Jeno too!”_

Mark smiled tightly, the phantom feeling of fingers tugging the hair at the base of his neck sending jarring shivers down his spine.

 _“Of course,”_ he muttered. _“You guys will always come first.”_

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Out of their rag-tag group of friends, Jeno was always the most observant. He saw things that others didn’t, whether it was a smile that was too forced, or a twitch of the finger that indicated anger. He saw so much, other students probably thought he was a seer. In some ways, it became a joke amongst their group. Jeno was their living and breathing lie-detector, always knowing who the culprit behind a missing stash of candy was or whether or not Hendery had missed class in lieu of hooking up behind a poor, unsuspecting statue in the courtyard.

His sharp observant skills were a bit of a talent, and one to be feared at that. Having known him since they were children, Mark had it both a little easier and a little harder. On one hand, he knew what Jeno looked for, what habits would tip him off if something was up, making it easier for Mark to conceal any telling signs. The downside of knowing Jeno for years, was that Jeno didn’t always need a sign. He knew Mark like the back of his hand, always one step ahead of the raven-haired boy, asking if he was okay seconds before the elder could burst into tears. It was both comforting and frightening.

In that moment, during their first feast of their fifth year at Hogwarts, it was frightening.

Mark’s skin crawled, fingers shaking as he sipped from his goblet for the tenth time in the last five minutes, using it as an excuse to eye a boy three tables away. Decked in black robes tinged with emerald green and shiny silver, Lee Haechan sat, squished between Renjun and Yangyang. He kept his promise of doing something exciting to his hair, with tinges of reds and blues and greens streaked through soft brown hair. The colors were so light and soft that Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice from far away. He only got a chance to see the colors up close right before sitting down, when Haechan had not so subtly walked right in front of Mark and his friends. The others grunted their annoyance, and while Haechan didn’t chance a glance in any of their directions, it was clear by the slight smirk on his face that he got what he wanted. And Mark had a feeling it was likely his lingering gaze on the rainbow-haired boy’s back rather than the annoyance of his friends. Though, that was probably a bonus for him as well.

Looking at Haechan the best he could over the dining hall was frustrating to say the least. Mark longed to be able to run his fingers through the boy’s new hair, to count the colors and ask what they meant. Haechan didn’t do things lightly. Everything seemed so deliberate. Each streak of color must have a reason for being there, and Mark wanted to be talked through each one, wanted to know if the pale red meant something extra special.

So, he locked gazes with Haechan as often as he could, chugging the remnants of his drink, eyes taking in the light flush that dusted across the other boy’s cheeks. He wanted to see it up close. Wanted to feel the warmth of the rosy tinge burn his fingertips.

 _“Please don’t get into a fight during dinner,”_ Jeno murmured from Mark’s left, sending the poor boy into a coughing fit.

_“I—ack—I…what? No, I was just, like, looking at his hair. He changed it.”_

Jeno narrowed his eyes. _“Okay? He always changes it though.”_

 _“Yeah, no I know. I was just…curious, that’s all. Heh, I promise not to make your job as a prefect any more difficult than it needs to be,”_ Mark joked, nudging Jeno’s side. It was enough to have the prefect rolling his eyes, refocusing on his dinner.

With Jeno distracted once more, Mark risked a glance across the room, but Haechan seemed to be in deep conversation with Yangyang at that point.

 _Later_ Mark thought to himself. He had a whole year ahead of him.

_“And finally, I want to let you all know that the astronomy tower in the east tower is currently off-limits to all students unless class is in session. Evening hours are, until further notice, unavailable. Please make arrangements with Professor Bae if something of important comes up. Now, enjoy your first feast of many!”_

Mark froze, willing his whole body to not move and look in Haechan’s direction at the news. He felt the weight of Jeno’s gaze fixate on his profile. Another thing Mark chose to ignore in that moment.

 _Off limits?_ He wondered to himself, casually glancing at other students in the hall, none of whom seemed affected by the news, and were instead burying themselves in their dinners. _But why?_

Mark didn’t dare look up, but the heavy weight of a confused gaze other than Jeno’s burned into his temple with an intensity that made Mark want to scream.

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The tail end of summer barreled past as fast as the Hogwarts Express itself. Before any of the students could even blink, October was nearly over, the trees on the campus grounds shaking their colorful branches as if to say: _Fall is here._

Normally, Mare loved autumn. It was the perfect weather that leaned towards a cooler average temperature, providing just enough brisk wind to make wearing layers of robes comfortable and not cumbersome. On top of that, quidditch season was in full swing, and as the new team captain, Mark was filled with excitement and adrenaline before each and every game. The Gryffindor team managed to win their first two games thus far, and were gearing up for a third win, having caught wind of the Ravenclaw team’s terrible formation so far.

In general, the first two months of school were working in Mark’s favor, and he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment fill his entire being each day he woke up.

Unfortunately, though, there were a few drawbacks up to that point so far.

The first being that the Gryffindor’s didn’t share a single core class with the Slytherins. While his friends had practically howled all through the night in pure, unadulterated joy upon such news, Mark could only manage a tight smile, wheezing out words of forced excitement, sipping minutely on his shot glass of fire whisky (courtesy of Hendery). He had had hopes that his extra curriculars would bode him…well, something with a certain Slytherin. Alas, his ancient runes class and three o’clock arithmancy course (not exactly his favorite subjects) were filled with Ravenclaws, a few Hufflepuffs, and one befuddled Kim Yeri, a Gryffindor girl in his year and their newest keeper on the quidditch team.

 _“Mark?”_ she said in disbelief as said boy awkwardly settled down beside her in arithmancy. _“First ancient runes and now arithmancy? Didn’t see these classes as being up your alley…”_

They were not. And Mark had a feeling he was about to struggle big time in keeping his grades up in both. And to make matters worse, he still had one other big problem plaguing his thoughts on a daily basis.

The astronomy tower remained closed, to no one’s knowledge as for why. Mark wasn’t taking any astronomy classes that year, but according to Jungwoo who was still enrolled, the tower seemed fine, no issues or anything. Desperate, Mark even asked if Jeno could try and find out why students weren’t being allowed access outside class time hours. Unfortunately, it seemed even the prefects had no information on the sudden rule change.

With a busted class schedule, no access to the astronomy tower, and not a single sighting of a rainbow-haired Slytherin at a single quidditch game so far, Mark was beginning to wonder why he put so much stock into his fifth year.

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 _“Fucking assholes!”_ Lucas snarled, trailing behind his friends as the boys dejectedly made their way to the Hufflepuff common room. _“I swear one of these days I’m going to fucking—,”_

 _“Do nothing,”_ Jeno cut in, arm waving his wand that was currently blowing warm air all over a sopping wet Jungwoo. _“I’ve already taken house points and given them detention. Don’t make me have to do something to you too.”_

_“Come on, man! You know what they did is bullshit,”_ Lucas raged on. _“At least let me hex them back.”_

 _“Or send their asses back to the shitholes they crawled out of,”_ Hendery muttered bitterly, hands stuffed in his pockets as he brooded beside a livid Lucas.

Try as he may to be as calm and collected as Jeno, Mark felt a similar bubble of rage threatening to burst from within. What had started out as a playful snowball fight between the five of them in the courtyard, had become a mad dash to ensure Jungwoo didn’t get hypothermia after a bunch of Slytherins dumped cold water on the poor, unsuspecting Hufflepuff boy. Selfishly, Mark was pleased to see that none of the boys running away had touches of the rainbow streaked through their hair. He did, however, note that the boys were friends of Haechan’s, and that alone didn’t sit right with Mark.

_“Jeno, seriously, you can’t be okay with this.”_

_“Of course I’m not, it was childish at best and potentially, extremely harmful on top of that. Sadly, I really can’t do much more than what I did unless Jungwoo wants me to.”_

_“Jungwoo?”_ Lucas edged carefully, taking a couple long strides to catch up to the boy, placing a careful arm around his shoulders. _“Are you sure you’re okay? Seriously, I’ll go beat them up if you want me to.”_

Jungwoo smiled, his eyes red rimmed and clearly struggling to keep the tears at bay. _“I’m fine, Xuxi. I’m mostly dry now too, thanks to Jeno. I just want to go and take a nap, forget this ever happened.”_

 _“I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it a thousand more, Slytherins are vile and they deserve to rot in hell.”_ Hendery started, eyes fixed forward, gaze dark. _“Every single one of them.”_

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After Jungwoo was attacked by Slytherins, the boys’ fifth year only seemed to continue its inevitable, downward spiral.

Christmas break came and went without a fuss. Mark had gone home for the holidays and celebrated with family on both sides. It was fun and provided a nice distraction for all school-related things.

Which was certainly for the best, given the running list of reasons that blazed through Mark’s head as to why Haechan wasn’t talking to him. In a brief moment of desperation, Mark had considered staying at school for the holidays, in hopes Haechan had as well. Fortunately, he chose wisely, as he caught wind from Lucas that Haechan’s family were set to have a huge gathering of influential families, most of whom were Slytherin alum. Lucas had informed Mark in a rant-induced letter, admitting that he was almost forced to go because his aunt was Chenle’s mother’s sister. It was indeed a bit of a stretch, invitation wise, but Lucas’ family received the invitation all the same. Fortunately, Lucas’ parents had declined, leaving the boy to share with his friends his ‘near death’ experience of receiving such an invite.

Satisfied knowing that he hadn’t made the wrong choice by coming home, Mark was somewhat relaxed.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, however, things only continued to worsen.

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It wasn’t until mid-February that Mark finally had a literal run-in with Haechan, sending both himself and the rainbow-haired Slytherin down the ever-shifting staircase.

Mark startled, hands reaching out in two directions, one to brace himself against the railing, the other tight on Haechan’s bicep, pulling the boy forward at an awkward angle, Mark’s chin brushing Haechan’s shoulder.

It took a mere two seconds for Mark to process just who it was he had in his arms, leaving his brain scrambling for something to say.

_Where have you been? Are you avoiding me? How are you?_

In that moment, Mark’s quick-thinking, for better or for worse, could only come up with:

 _“Hi.”_ Except, his voice managed to crack on the single syllable and Haechan tugged himself out of Mark’s arms at lightening speed the moment he heard the shoddy greeting leave Mark’s mouth.

Something was wrong.

Haechan was a lot of things. Loud. Outspoken. Mischievous. Talented. Bold.

He was _not_ timid. And more importantly, he never backed away from a challenge.

So when Haechan took two tiny steps back, placing himself two steps below Mark, the Gryffindor frowned.

 _“Are you okay?”_ he ventured, ducking his head to try and catch Haechan’s gaze. The Slytherin boy nodded, head turning to stare at the wall of portraits.

 _“Okay…”_ Mark continued slowly. _“I feel like I haven’t talked to you in a while. I was going to send you an owl, but then I wasn’t sure if you had one…then again I guess you could’ve always borrowed one from the owlery. Or you could have used Hayan! Hayan…I mean, that’s my owl, so…I mean not that you have to use her. I mean you probably have your own owl. Not that I don’t want you to not use Hayan! I don’t mind! But uh…I mean she does bite a lot, and with it being winter she’s less inclined to deliver mail and…”_

_“Mark.”_

Haechan had turned back to face him, a small, fond smile gracing his features. Mark felt warmth spread from the core of his chest across his face.

_“Sorry…I do that sometimes. Ramble.”_

Haechan let out a giggle. _“I know. It’s funny.”_

Mark was tempted to reach out, to grab Haechan’s hand and tug him away somewhere. It didn’t matter where. It didn’t even matter if his friends saw. Mark just wanted a moment alone with him, with Haechan.

_“Haechan, I…”_

And just like that, the moment was broken. A guarded look shuttered over Haechan’s eyes as he took a heavy step backwards, up the staircase.

_“I’m sorry, I…I have to go!”_

Quickly, in a flutter of back and green robes, Haechan darted out of Mark’s sight once more.

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Mark was ten years old, just ten months away from receiving his letter from Hogwarts, sitting on a sidewalk, and clutching his scraped knee, bulbous tears pouring from his eyes.

 _“Oh, come now,”_ his mother soothed. _“It’s not so bad. See, the little dots of blood are already gone.”_

Mark hiccupped and sniveled, wiping harshly at his blotched cheeks. It was embarrassing. So, so embarrassing.

 _“What happened?”_ his mother pried once more. Young Mark sniffed harshly, giving his face one last rub as he attempted to explain what happened.

_“I thought that kid was bullying Jeno but…but…he was just trying to play. But I didn’t know! So I got mad and yelled at him but then Jeno got mad at me and…”_

_“And you ran away and fell and scraped your knee?”_ Mark’s mother summarized. _“Oh honey, it’s okay. I’m sure Jeno knows you were just looking out for him.”_

 _“And I didn’t mean to make the other kid cry!”_ Mark continued fiercely.

_“Shh, I know, honey. It was just a misunderstanding. But you have to remember. Things are not always what they seem, so don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions next time.”_

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.

 _“Has anyone seen Jungwoo?”_ Lucas asked as their friend group settled down for dinner one a particularly chilly evening in March. _“He was acting strange earlier and now I haven’t seen him for hours.”_

Jeno looked thoughtful. _“You know, now that you mention it, I haven’t see him around either. And he even missed lunch.”_

 _“Jungwoo never misses lunch,”_ Hendery frowned. _“He must’ve been hidden behind Song Mingi. That is pretty big and manages to hide Jungwoo most of the time if they’re sitting by each other.”_

 _“I don’t know…”_ Jeno trailed off, eyes scanning up and down the Hufflepuff table for their beloved friend.

Then, suddenly, quick, frenzied footsteps approached them from the side.

 _“Jeno!”_ a voice gasped out. Shin Ryujin, a younger Gryffindor girl came jogging up to the prefect, eyes darting between him and Mark. _“Jeno, some Slytherins were bullying Jungwoo up near the astronomy tower a few minutes ago!”_

 _“They’re WHAT?”_ Lucas bellowed, heaving himself out of his seat and making his way for the doors, friends scrambling to follow behind.

The group of boys tore through the halls, sprinting past Peeves who snickered at their frenzied state.

_“My oh my, better hurry, cuties! Little ol’ Peeves smelled fresh blood not two minutes ago!”_

Portraits flew in a whirlwind of color out of Mark’s peripheral, thighs screaming as they tore up flight after flight of stairs before approaching the astronomy tower at last.

Strangely, in the first time in months, the door was unlocked, swung wide and open for passerby’s to walk into easily. And upon stepping through the threshold, the most horrid sight came upon their eyes.

Jungwoo, crumpled on the ground, arms held over his head, laid pitifully on the floor of the astronomy tower. His robes were shredded in random places, fabric peeling away to show patches of cut skin, the bright red blood staining his white button-up.

Opposite him on the other side of the room stood a heaving Renjun, Haechan clasping his shoulders. Jaemin was crouched awkwardly beside Jungwoo, attempting to tend to the Hufflepuff’s wounds.

Yangyang, who stood somewhat in between in all, clutching a handful of wands, locked eyes with Mark. He let out a shaky breath. _“Calm down.”_

 _“Calm down? You want me to calm down?”_ Lucas demanded, voice cracking through the tower with an intensity that rattled the windows. It seemed to catch the attention of the others at last though. Jaemin took a modest step aside, letting Jeno and Hendery rush to Jungwoo, gently easing the boy into sitting position.

Lucas took a step forward, getting further into Yangyang’s space. Mark locked eyes with Haechan, a new feeling swirling in his gut as he looked at the Slytherin. The feeling felt wrong, acidic, and Mark was torn between punching him, helping Jungwoo, and running away from the scene all together.

Haechan broke his gaze away, hands still clasped firmly on Renjun’s shoulders, whose own gaze remained guarded and locked on the floor.

 _“Okay, hey,”_ Haechan started. _“I know what this looks like. But I swear we can…”_

_“Save it.”_

Every head whipped around to face Mark.

 _“Nothing you have to say can save yourself from this,”_ he said, voice low, pitch unlike his own. It didn’t sound like him and an unrecognizable tint of fear flooded Haechan’s eyes. _“And after we take Jungwoo to the infirmary, you’ll be lucky if you all don’t get expelled for what you did to him.”_

 _“Mark…”_ Haechan started, attempting to take a step forward only for Yangyang to stretch out an arm, blocking his path.

Yangyang held Mark’s gaze. _“It’s really not what it looks like.”_

_“Jeno, Hendery, grab Jungwoo and let’s go. We need to get him to the infirmary. Lucas.”_

One by one, the Gryffindors followed Mark’s orders. After a moment of Jeno and Hendery struggling to gently lift Jungwoo, Lucas marched forward, swinging the boy in his arms himself, flanked by the other two as they left the tower.

For a moment, Mark stayed put. Jaemin eased himself off the ground, making his way over to his friends as Yangyang shifted around to tug Renjun from Haechan’s arms. Haechan himself stood still, eyes silently pleading with Mark.

 _“Mark,”_ he whispered, voice feeble in the room. Mark shook his head. His eyes burned, like tears were threatening to burst forth from his eyes. But deeper within, in his gut, in his heart, something else burned. A flicker of hatred, unlike anything he had ever felt before, revved up.

 _“Don’t,”_ he bit out. _“Just don’t. All you Slytherins are the same. You’re all monsters.”_

And with that last, biting remark, Mark spun around, marched out of the tower, and pulled the door shut behind him. Body running on autopilot, he made his way in the general direction of the infirmary, sure that he had closed that door not only on those monsters, but on what could have been, potentially, if only, the start of something else entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> It says prologue but will I ever update?
> 
> ...No <3
> 
> Lol no I probably will. Let me know what you think so far!


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